A Survivor's Tale
by wickedmetalviking1990
Summary: Nathan Hall, a 30 year old veteran and recently widowed father, is the sole survivor of Vault 111. Adrift in a world ravaged by violence, disorder, and nuclear radiation, driven by the promise to rescue his kidnapped son. Will he succeed? Will this new world bring meaning to his troubled soul? Rated M for violence, extreme situations, some drug references, language, and sex.
1. The End of the World

**(AN: Hello, Vault-Boys and Vault-Girls, to my first ever Fallout fic! I've decided to try my hand out on something else that I've been enjoying quite a bit of lately and tell my version of the Fallout 4 story. All characters, names, and things belong to Bethesda and Todd "it just works" Howard.)**

**(Unlike my _Skyrim_ series which started with _The Dragonborn and the Lioness_, I'm a tad more versed in Fallout lore [having done some measure of research prior to setting this down]. The purpose of this story, aside from doing something fun to continue to exercise my writing skills, is to explore several theories and speculations of my own, not only with the narrative of _Fallout_ and its characters but with the post-civilization world. It will be a genuine speculative story: a hard science fiction fic wrapped in a shiny V.A.U.L.T.-Tech wrapper!)**

**(For the sake of not slogging through the intro [as well as -spoilers!-], I'm dispensing with the pre-War beginning scene. We'll learn about our hero's life through his interactions with the characters. Now let us begin!)**

* * *

**The End of the World**

A blinding light. It reminded him of the flash of the bomb, that fateful morning in 2077. Even as the lift was rising up from the bowels of the earth, Nathan Hall's mind was reeling. It all happened so fast. A lazy morning in mid-October, the salesman, Nora and Shaun, and then the sirens. He had snapped into action: his time in the 108th had trained him for that. Then they went underground, into Vault 111 - good thing he'd let the salesman in when he did: the next thing he knew, some bald-headed asshole had shot Nora and Shaun was gone, then he was waking up freezing cold in an abandoned vault with nothing but some cockroaches the size of cats for company. With the help of the Pip-Boy, the personal computer mounted on his left arm like an oversized bracelet, Nathan had managed to escape the Vault and had now returned to the surface.

But once his eyes became accustomed to the light of the sun, what greeted him was a grim sight. What had once been a full and vibrant forest of green trees was now a sea of skeletons, hanging nakedly in the wind. The grass was brown and dry, and there wasn't much to see as far as civilization for miles in any direction. Even the skies seemed bare and empty, with not a cloud to be seen.

In any case, Nathan decided that he had to look for the bald-headed man who had killed Nora. He didn't have a clue where to start, or even a name drop off at the post-office. All he had going for him was the promise he had made over his wife's corpse in the Vault when he woke up: that he would find the one who killed her and get back their infant son Shaun. It was the only thing that drove him now, that pushed him forward, that made him move. He stepped off the platform that led into the Vault and began making his way down the hill. He followed the path that he and Nora had made when they passed this way to enter the Vault. The dried up leaves of grass and stunted brown bushes were unsettling, as though something or someone was waiting inside them to attack him. This feeling was not abated by the presence of bones on the ground before him: human bones. Though they had been picked clean God knows how long ago, they still wore the tattered remains of their clothes.

Nathan recognized their clothes. These were employees of Vault-Tec, the company that made the Vaults. Had they been out here when the bombs fell? He had read things on the terminals in Vault 111 when he woke up, trying to find some way to open the Vault or at least a clue to who had stolen Shaun. These things weren't at all very good: apparently Vault-Tec had been using them as guinea pigs for some sort of twisted lab experiment involving cryogenics. What it all meant he couldn't wrap his head around, but the other things that appeared on those terminals sent chills up his spine.

Down the hill he went, until he came to the shores of what he took to be Dakins Brook. Well, it had been Dakins Brook in his day, but now it was much lower and the bridge and fallen down. In stark contrast to the dull, brown, and dirty ground around it, the water looked clear and clean-looking: quite deceptively so, if his grade school training about atomic poisoning could be trusted more than Vault-Tec. At any rate, he wasn't thirsty and had no desire to wade through it. Following the broken foot-bridge he used on his way up here, he crossed the brook and continued on his way. The woods he walked through were bare and leafless: like winter in the south. There wasn't much as far as anywhere to hide; not that Nathan had much concern for what could be out there. After all, nothing could survive an atomic explosion - except cockroaches, obviously. What was there to fear?

As Nathan walked, he examined the Pip-Boy on his arm. It still had some power: from the television advertisements, he heard that they were powered by an atomic battery that could last upwards of several centuries. Turning one of the knobs, he got a full body readout for his vital signs: heart-rate was within acceptable limits, pulse was normal, body temperature optimal, and no signs of radiation. One of the dials on the side of the main-screen showed the built-in Geiger-counter: the needle was at 0 rads and no clicking could be heard. On the front end of the device, near his hand, was a button which said below it "Activate V.A.T.S." Clicking it produced a tiny green beam from the Pip-Boy, like a laser ray from the Jangles the Moon Monkey cartoon serials: the read-out on the main screen went blank, no matter which way he pointed it. Didn't seem to be harmful.

But fiddling with the Pip-Boy would have to wait for another time. Before him he could see, brown and twisted, the shrubs that served as the back hedge of Sanctuary Hills. Sometime in the mid 2040s, the place had been turned from a museum into a residential subdivision: the statue of the Minuteman, the monument to the American Revolution, had been moved to the eastern side of the Old North Bridge to allow for more room for houses. Who the asshole was do made that decision, Nathan didn't know: he was just born at the time, and that was the world he lived in. Lived in. For that world was gone, and there was no one left who would even remember the Minutemen, the American Revolution, or the 'Shot Heard Round the World.'

As Nathan approached the path that led to the Old North Bridge, the 'scenic route' out of Sanctuary, he heard a familiar sound: a General Atomics repulsor engine active. He knew that sound, for it was heard frequently in his house before everything happened. He looked this way and that, looking for the source of the sound. To his surprise, he found the source. Two houses down from where he had emerged, he saw his house: the House of Tomorrow, the realtor had called it. Hovering about it just outside was a squid-looking robot hovering a foot or two off the ground, with three mechanical arms and its three eye-sockets looking down at the yard. Only it didn't look quite so shiny as it had before: there were dings, stains, and scrapes on its chrome-plated chassis, the joints on the arms looked old, and in places the finish was coming off.

"Codsworth?" Nathan asked.

The robot turned its body about towards the sound of Nathan's voice. Its rounded photoreceptors gently lurched forward on their spindly stalks. Then, from an unseen mouth, came the sound of a surprisingly very relieved British butler.

"As I live and breathe!" the robot exclaimed. "Ah, sir! It's...it's really you!"

Nathan was surprised to hear the robot's voice. Not that he didn't know Mr. Handys could communicate in such a way, but that his guess was correct. Could it be that someone from his old home survived?

"You...you're still here..." Nathan muttered aloud, still amazed.

"Well, of course I'm still here!" the robot proudly exclaimed. "Surely you didn't think a little radiation could deter the pride of General Atomics International? But you seem the worse for wear. Best not let the missus see you in that state, hmm? Where is your better half, by the by?"

Nathan froze for a moment. Hearing Codsworth talking so nonchalantly about Nora, as if it was discussing today's weather or reading off the temperature of his morning coffee, seemed...wrong somehow. Especially after what he had seen firsthand. Now it was coming back to him. Waking up inside that damned ice-box, the bald man in the leather coat, the woman in white; they tried to take Shaun from her. She refused. And then the gunshot.

"Sir?"

"She's dead, Codsworth," Nathan grimly answered. "Some men in white coats came...and they killed her..."

"Oh dear, sir," the robot sympathetically murmured. "These things you're saying...these terrible things...I-I believe you need a distraction. Yes! A distraction to calm this...this dire mood. It's been ages since we've had a proper family activity. May I suggest checkers? Or perhaps charades? Oh, Shaun does love that game. Ha ha ha! Is...uh...is the lad with you?"

"Does it look like he's with me?" Nathan returned, more gruffly than he had intended. "They took him...the ones who killed Nora...they took Shaun!"

"It's worse than I thought," said Codsworth. "Hmm hmm! You're suffering from...hunger-induced paranoia. Not eating properly for 200 years will do that, I'm afraid. Ha ha."

"Wait, what?" Nathan asked. "Two hundred years?" Suddenly it all started to fall into place: the ice-boxes, what he had seen in the Vault terminals. They had been put in cyrogenic stasis. But why were they frozen? Why would V.A.U.L.T.-Tech freeze them inside the Vault? The terminals suggested merely some kind of scientific test. But his train of thought was interrupted by Codsworth's oddly cheerful interjection.

"A bit over 210, actually, sir," remarked the robot. "Give or take a little for the Earth's rotation and some minor dings to the old chronometer. That's means you're...two centuries late for dinner! Ha ha ha ha! Perhaps I can whip you up a sick? You must be famished!"

"The hell's wrong, Codsworth?" asked Nathan. "You're...you're acting strange."

The robot paused. What happened next was strange for Nathan. He never expected a robot to be anything more than a machine: perhaps with a built-in program that would give it a semblance of personality, but still a machine. If what had happened next had happened to a human, Nathan would have immediately said it was an emotional breakdown. The robot's photoreceptors sunk down on their stalks, the voice suddenly sounded desperate, and the bulbous body lurched unsteadily on its single thruster.

"Oh sir, it's been just horrible! Two centuries with no one to talk to, no one to serve! I spent the first ten years trying to keep the floors waxed, but nothing gets out nuclear fallout from vinyl wood; nothing! And don't get me started about the futility of dusting a collapsed house. And the car! The car! How do you polish rust?!"

"Hey!" Nathan said, glad no one else was there to see him try to calm down a robot. "Stay with here, Codsy. It'll be alright. Can you tell me what happened?"

"I'm afraid I don't know anything, sir," Codsworth replied, his audio still sounding more emotional than one could believe a robot capable of. "The bombs came, and all of you left in such a hurry. I thought for certain you and your family were...were...dead." One of the mechanical arms reached into a compartment between the bulbous main body and the arms, and presented a tiny object about 2.75 inches wide and 4.25 inches long.

"I did find this holotape," he said. "I believe mum was going to present it to you as...as a surprise. But then, well, everything 'happened!'"

Nathan took the holotape from Codsworth, as though he were being given a priceless jewel. Aside from his wedding band on his own hand, it was the only physical thing he had that reminded him of his lovely wife Nora.

"What's on it?" he asked, as he examined the holotape.

"I believe it's a private message for you, sir," Codsworth replied, already sounding less emotional than before. "My etiquette protocols would not permit me to play it for myself. Any standard holotape reading device should be able to play it back...oh! Like that Pip-Boy on your arm. That should work brilliantly." The voice module 'cleared' its voice and resumed its standard 'stiff upper lip' persona. "Now, enough feeling sorry for myself! Shall we search the neighborhood together? Mum and young Shaun may turn up yet."

"Fine," Nathan said, though he had no hope that they'd be here, so close to the Vault. "Let's look for them."

"Proud to serve, sir!" Codsworth announced, and at once began hovering down the street, three eyes looking this way and that all around him. Nathan left him wander off for a while, as he turned and made his way into his old house: he thought he had heard something.

* * *

The House of Tomorrow. It seemed like just yesterday that he had woken up, taken his morning shower, shaved the stubble off his face, and readied for the day. It was so hard to believe that over two hundred years had passed since then. He walked inside and saw what was left over. All the windows had been broken, several wall-shelves had fallen down, and the record-player hutch under the window-sill in the living room had collapsed. The kitchen was a mess, and there wasn't anything left on the counter-tops save for some small appliances and a copy of _Grog'nak the Barbarian_ comic book: Jungle of the Bat-Babies. Nathan smiled grimly: he enjoyed reading the adventures of Grog'nak and collected them even into adulthood. He walked into the bathroom and up to the mirror. Short brown hair, blue eyes, clean-shaven: he hadn't changed a bit, though the mirror was stained and dusty. The blue and yellow Vault-suit that he was wearing didn't look any more flattering on him in the mirror than when he first got a look at it (though obviously Nora looked better in it). Then he heard it again, the nearby crackle of a voice. Turning around, he went back into the living room and saw the source of the sound: Bill Kenny, barely audible, crooning from the other end of a still-functioning radio sitting at the bottom of a collapsed shelf.

_I Don't Want to Set the World On Fire_  
_I just want to start a flame in your heart_

Nathan shook his head. The Ink Spots were a favorite on the radio, even back in the 2050s, when he was a teenager. There was something disturbingly ironic about those words, warbling here at the end of everything. He walked over to the radio and started turning the dial. There was a lot of static, but eventually he found a spot where the sound came in clearly. Now, however, the song was over and a piano arpeggio was kicking up. Then he heard Skeeter Davis singing about a lost love.

_Why does the sun go on shining?_  
_Why does the sea rush to shore?_  
_Don't they know It's the End of the World?_  
_'Cuz you don't love me anymore_

_Why do the birds go on singing?_  
_Why do the stars glow above?_  
_Don't they know It's the End of the World?_  
_It ended when I lost your love_

_I wake up in the morning and I wonder_  
_Why everything's the same as it was?_  
_I can't understand, no I can't understand_  
_How life goes on the way it does_

Nathan closed his eyes and turned to walk away. There wasn't anything for him in what was left of his old house: whereas the Ink Spots seemed smugly ironic, Skeeter Davis spoke to his heart at that moment. He had no idea why he, Nathan Hall, had survived the Sino-American War of 2066: there were plenty of good young men, better men than him, in the 108th Infantry Company. They never got to go home to a beautiful wife and bouncing baby. And now here he was, in the year 2287 according to the clock on his Pip-Boy: once more the lone survivor. Why was he the one to make it when so many others didn't? He was the man of his new little household, and it had been his responsibility to protect Nora and Shaun. But now Nora was dead, Shaun was God knows where, and he...

At last, as Skeeter Davis concluded her sad little ballad, Nathan wiped his eyes. There was only one thing left for him to do: keep his promise. He reached into the pocket of his Vault-suit, brought out the 10mm handgun he had pulled out of the Vault overseer's desk, removed the clip, and counted how many bullets he had with him. A full cartridge of ten shots, but not nearly enough. He'd have to find more bullets, or another weapon. For now, however, he hoped that there was nothing else in the area of Sanctuary worse than the oversized cockroaches he found in the Vault.

Leaving his old house, he didn't have to go far before he heard the sound of Codsworth humming something that could be 'Rule Britannia', as well as his active thruster burning. Suddenly there was a loud buzzing sound coming from one of the nearby houses that was still standing. A large fly about the size of a watermelon came flying out of the house towards Nathan. It made a sickening sound and shot something towards Nathan. Instinctively, he moved his right hand up to cover his face and accidentally hit the 'Activate V.A.T.S.' button on his Pip-Boy. But at that moment, there was a more mechanical buzzing sound, like a saw, and then a sickening squelch and the large fly's body hit the ground.

Nathan moved his hand from his face and saw Codsworth hovering over the fly, a buzz-saw in one of his three arms: Mr. Handy indeed. But the Pip-Boy was still bleeping. Nathan looked at the screen was surprised at what he saw: a complete technical readout of Codsworth. General Atomics International Mr. Handy unit. Motor functions within acceptable limits. Coolant low. Oil in need of a change. Second arm servomotors sluggish in response. Atomic battery at 47%. Thruster exhaust port highest potential damage. Nathan clicked the button again and turned V.A.T.S. off, then followed Codsworth as he hovered into the house to examine it.

There wasn't anything in the house; bookcases were empty, trunks and night-stands were plundered, and the beds had collapsed. The only things of note in this house was a safe that hadn't been cracked and an unopened bottle of Nuka-Cola in the ice-box. Nathan smiled as he saw it; an old favorite from back in the day. From Christmastime to the Fourth of July, cartoon serials to pinup girl calendars, everyone knew about, or drank, these fizzy soft drinks in their rocket-shaped bottles. As for the safe, he remembered a trick that Nora had showed him back when they were dating, before he was deployed: all he'd need to find was a screwdriver and a bobby pin.

The next house he searched had nothing but some more overgrown flies. Another one, however, had something even more interesting. One of his neighbors had privately built an underground shelter of their own. Nothing too fancy like the Vault, just a little place underground with a bed and a few sundry items. What had happened to him was anyone's business, but there was a few things which Nathan might find useful. A duffle bag with some items: canned food, canned water, and a stack of 20 dollar bills. Nathan stuffed the Nuka-Cola bottle into the bag, then strapped it to his back and took it with him. When he emerged, he found Codsworth hovering near the entrance of a house: the way his cylindrical photoreceptors hung down seemed to paint a sad picture.

"Hey, Codsworth," Nathan greeted as he approached the robot.

"They're...they're really gone, aren't they?" the robot butler realized, his audio-output sounding rather grim.

"Dammit, I'm not giving up!" Nathan replied. "He's got to be out there, somewhere."

"Sir, if I may suggest, you could try Concord," offered Codsworth. "You know the way; across the Old North Bridge and right at the Red Rocket Truck Stop."

"There's still people in Concord?"

"Yes indeed, sir. Although, I must warn you, they're not exactly quite, shall we say, put together right? Tried to tear me down for scrap the last time I went over there."

"Thank you," he sighed.

"My pleasure, sir," Codsworth replied. "Chin up, now. You'll find young Shaun; I know you will. I shall remain here and secure the home-front."

With that, the robot hovered off back to the Hall's house and began patrolling around the perimeter of the house. Nathan, meanwhile, was on his way towards the road that led to the Old North Bridge. The bridge was still intact, though a portion had fallen off on the north-hand side. It wouldn't take him long to walk to Concord from here: only twenty-three minutes. The cars in the garages around Sanctuary still had their atomic batteries, but the rest of them were almost completely corroded with rust and unusable.

Over the bridge Nathan went, keeping to the southern side thereof. It held under his weight, and he made it to the other side. He made his way, looking this way and that toward the bare, naked trees. The Minuteman statue still stood where it had been moved, years before he was born, on the eastern side of the Concord River. Just up ahead, he could make out the red rocket sign of the gas station. The Red Rocket Truck Stop. He wondered why gas stations hadn't closed down once they started charging upwards of $50 a gallon. But there were still in his day some stations whose prices were upwards of $150 a gallon. Such had been the results of the Resource Wars of the early 2050s, and the years that followed.

Slowly he came upon the empty, desiccated remains of the Red Rocket Truck Stop, here at the corner of Great Meadows Road and Monument Street. The cars sat where they had been abandoned, empty and rusted. As he approached, there appeared something walking out of the service station: a German Shepherd. The dog came to a halt when it noticed the blue-clad stranger, and cocked its head to the right side as it examined the strange newcomer. Nathan clicked his tongue and whistled, and the dog slowly made its way over to him.

"Hey, boy," he said, a smile on his face. "Are you out here all by yourself?"

The dog slowly walked over to the human, his mouth hanging open and his tongue out in what could almost be considered a smile. Nathan knelt down and scratched the dog's ears. Somehow it felt very reassuring: his whole world had been turned upside down and something as simple as a dog seemed like a welcomed bit of normalcy in this strange new world.

Just then the dog spun around, got low to the ground, and began growling. Nathan didn't have to know too much about animals to know that something was wrong. He removed the pistol from the pocket of his Vault-suit and started looking around. From the dirt on the outskirts of the truck stop came three large mounds, like moving mole-hills, scurrying fast towards them. Nathan kept his gun on hand, waiting for an opening. Suddenly there were three bursts of dirt flung up into the air: three rat-like creatures roughly the same size as the dog appeared from the ground. They were an ugly fleshy pink color, naked save for a thin layer of dirt on their bare bodies, with four limbs, a tail, and four oversized pincers for a mouth. They didn't look friendly at all.

Nathan fired a shot at one, but it was too quick and the shot hit the dirt behind it. The dog leaped onto another one and dove its sharp teeth into the rat's neck. The rat nearest to Nathan leaped for him, but he kicked it away with his foot. The third rat attempted to save its fellow and attacked the dog. Nathan took aim, but couldn't get a decent show with the pistol. The first rat then came at Nathan again, leaping up and digging its jaws into his left arm. He pulled his arm back instinctively, and the rat's incisors skipped on the hardened plastic of the Pip-Boy, activating V.A.T.S. Nathan whipped the rat with his pistol, knocking it off his arm, and shot it in the head. He then turned back to the dog and the second rat, who were still locked in battle with each other.

There was a beeping sound on his wrist. He looked and saw the readout the V.A.T.S. gave on the creature: _Heterocephalus glaber_, naked mole-rat. Significant genetic alteration. Above average levels of gamma radiation. Limited eyesight. Head highest potential damage. Then it clicked in Nathan's head; the V.A.T.S. was a kind of targeting computer. He pointed the little green laser at the mole-rat, and it began beeping loudly. Taking aim at the dot at the end of the green beam, Nathan took his shot. The bullet flew through the air and penetrated the mole-rat's skull, dropping it immediately. The dog shook off its attacker, then turned to finish off the one it had bitten on the neck.

Nathan was surprised to see monstrous rats the size of dogs, but his shock was somewhat less than when he encountered the cockroaches. He had help from the dog, but also he had this targeting system built into his Pip-Boy that made firing much easier. Unfortunately he was down by three bullets, leaving only seven left. As he returned the gun to his pocket, the dog came up next to him, sat down, and looked up playfully at him with hits mouth open and tongue wagging.

"You did good, boy," he said as he caught his breath again.

The dog then made a playful sound, got back onto all fours, and walked into the service bay. Nathan followed after him, and saw that it was empty save for several work-benches and a welder who knows how old. The dog looked about, then took something in its jaws that looked like a cigarette box. Wagging his tail, he brought it over to Nathan and placed it at his feet. Kneeling down, Nathan picked up the box: it was a 10mm bullet box. Chuckling, he stuffed the box into his duffle bag and patted the dog's head.

"Alright!" he replied. "Do you wanna come with me?" The dog stepped forward and licked Nathan's cheek. He smiled and couldn't help himself from laughing.

So it was that Nathan Hall left the Red Rocket Truck Stop, heading south on the twenty-three minute walk to Concord, with him was this helpful stray dog. As they walked, he examined the Pip-Boy again. There were several buttons on it which did various things, one of which turned the personal vitals readout into a radar map of the location. A dial just above the V.A.T.S. button sent a crackle of static and warbled sounds from a distant radio signal. On the left side of the Pip-Boy was a holotape deck, which opened when he pressed it. He was about to close it, but then he recalled the holotape that Codsworth had given him. He sat down on the side of the road, opened his duffle bag, pulled out the holotape, and inserted it into the tape-deck. The soft, faint sound of machinery whirring could be heard, and then the tape began to play. There was a loud whine of feedback, then a voice began speaking on the other end of the recorded holotape that took Nathan's breath away.

It was Nora's.

She seemed to be fiddling with something, and he could hear the babbling and squeaking of Shaun on the tape as well. Nathan covered his mouth with his hand as he lost himself in the noises the two of them were making. The dog, noticing that the human had stopped, turned around and curiously peaked over Nathan's shoulder and perked up his ears to listen. After a moment or two of struggle, Nora began to speak directly to him, Nathan.

'Hi honey! Listen, I don't think Shaun and I need to tell you how great of a father you are...but we're going to anyway. You are kind, and loving...and funny! Ha ha, that's right.' Baby Shaun let out a laugh on the tape, causing Nathan's eyes to well up as he heard his son's little voice.

'And patient,' Nora's voice continued. 'So patience. The patience of the saints, as my mom used to say.' Nathan chuckled to hear her tone of voice as she reminisced on her mother. After a moment of levity, she continued. 'Look with Shaun, and us all being at home together...it's been an amazing year. But even so, I know our best days are yet to come. There will be changes, sure. Things we'll need to adjust to. You'll rejoin the civilian workforce, and once Shaun is old enough for a babysitter, I'll shake the dust off my law degree. But everything we do, no matter how hard...we do it for our family. Bye honey! We love you! Say goodbye to daddy, Shaun! Bye bye? Say bye bye?'

The rest of the tape ended with Nora trying desperately to get a several month old baby to say anything beyond a happy babble. Nathan listened and listened until the holotape clicked off. Just for the sheer joy of hearing their voices again, happy and optimistic. But then it dawned on him that he would never hear Nora's voice again: her life had been ended, her voice silenced forever the moment she refused to surrender their baby. She was only a distant memory. But Shaun was still alive, maybe. He had to find him, one way or another. Hearing the tape galvanized his resolve; he would find Shaun one way or another, if it was the last thing he did. Nothing would stand in his way.

He clicked the tape deck open, removed the holotape and put it back in the duffle bag. Then he zipped the bag back up, closed the tape deck, and found the dog's head nestled underneath his arm. He smiled, scratched the top of the dog's head, then got himself back up onto his feet. Together, Nathan and the dog began to make their way on foot southward, following Monument Street.

* * *

**(AN: Hope you enjoyed this first dive into the world of Fallout, as well as a tiny hint to our hero's backstory.)**

**(Unlike _Skyrim_, which is a fantastical world where I can just use time dilation or some other CHIM crap to explain why it takes three to four days to walk from Windhelm to Markarth, the Boston Commonwealth in _Fallout 4_ is based on a real life place: so I've had to apply to quite a few more rules in this story than in my last one. Pretty much it's a 23 minute walk from the Old North Bridge [the real world location of Sanctuary Hills] to Concord: whose layout is immensely different in real life than in the game. I'm basing my Commonwealth on the real world version of Massachusetts [with some minor adjustments, obviously], to give it an added sense of realism. This also brought up the problem of "where is Vault 111 in relation to the real world?" The game puts it just a little hike from Sanctuary, but then has a river to cross when you're on your way back, which suggests that it's built on the eastern side of the Assabet [the Concord River is the one on Sanctuary's right side]. Also of note is that _Fallout_ puts the Minuteman statue just outside of Sanctuary on the eastern side of the Concord River, whereas in real life, it's on the western side.)  
**


	2. The Minutemen

**(AN: Okay, so after my rant about geography, I found out something rather unfortunate in my reading: the Museum of Freedom doesn't actually exist in our world...obviously. I mean, the church that you see in Concord could very well be the First or Holy Family Parish, but the main building where we meet our favorite Settlement monger is pure fiction. Worse still, the direction that I've got Nathan going on, based on real-life roads, doesn't terminate in a T-intersection, so I've had to move the Museum of Freedom to the intersection of Walden and Main to keep the general layout from the game still present.)**

**(As you may have noticed, I periodically use "atomic" as a replacer for "nuclear"; this is in keeping with the 50s "atomic scifi punk" aesthetic of the Fallout universe; but they're essentially the same thing.)**

* * *

**The Minutemen**

The road from Red Rocket to Concord was decidedly shorter than Nathan had calculated. There wasn't any traffic on Monument Street, nor any other cockroaches, flies, or mole-rats of unusual size to encounter. But the silence wasn't any better than a horde of such monsters. For in the silence, it seemed that everyone or everything could be watching them. Nathan tried to tell himself that there couldn't be anything else out there: but then again, Codsworth had mentioned people, and he had encountered some rather bizarre creatures. His canine companion walked along at his side, wagging his tail and panting, as yet unaware of anything that might attack them.

By and by, the dilapidated shapes of buildings began to appear through the naked trees before them. Then a loud report sounded: people were shooting. He drew his pistol and the dog's fur bristled on alert. Before going in guns blazing, Nathan made his way towards a two-story house whose roof had been blown off. In its cover, he turned a knob on his Pip-Boy and found a menu entitled 'V.A.T.S. Settings'. At the top of the menu was the acronym fully spelled out: Vault-Tec Assisted Targeting System. Below were several options to adjust V.A.T.S. according to his liking. There was an option to show more information on targets, less information, to activate the Navigational System, and to reduce the volume of the alert noises for V.A.T.S. He turned the noise all the way down, then activated V.A.T.S. as he made his way down the street, following the sound of gunfire.

As he entered downtown Concord, Nathan's military training went back into play. True, it had been months - years, to be truthful - since he was in the Northern Theater for the liberation of Anchorage. But there had been several urban engagements, and he began assessing the downtown area as he went. The houses around here were in poor condition: roofs caved in, windows broken, doors hanging open or snapped in two. But so far, no sign of snipers on the upper levels. Just the same, he kept to the road, hiding behind the rusted remains of some old Corvegas as he made his way towards the tallest still standing building in the area. Behind him walked the dog, stiff and alert as he crept after him.

To his left he saw the spire of the Holy Family Parish, still standing with its white paint half-faded in spots. Nathan made his way into the chapel quickly; so far no one had fired on him from it, so he could use this to his advantage. As he entered the sanctuary, he thought about the irony of this church still intact after two hundred years. He paused for a moment and looked across the aisle of pews towards the alter: any gold or ornamentation of any possible value had long since been plundered, but he knew that usually a cross of some kind sat on the wall on the far side of these churches. Although raised a Christian, Nathan hadn't been quite as diligent with his religious duties upon coming to manhood: something always seemed to get in the way of things. Most people believed that, as advancements in the fields of science and technology were made, the old religious rites and traditions would be thrown to the wayside, completely abandoned.

They were wrong. Religious fervor increased in the United States Commonwealth up to those last few days before it all ended. Among the faithful, some people believed that the endless shortages of food and major resources, not to mention the constant warfare abroad and civil unrest at home, were sure-fire signs of Armageddon: the end of the world as foretold in the Bible. In some ways, they were right. Into Nathan's mind came the seeds of doubt: the bombs, Nora's murder, Shaun's kidnapping, where was God in all of this? Maybe it was just a matter of luck, blind chance, but for some reason, seeing the Holy Family Parish still standing amid all the other ruined buildings gave Nathan some kind of simple hope. Maybe, just maybe, He hadn't left after all.

Nathan said nothing, but turned left and made his way up the stairs to the top of the steeple. Once he gained the top, he had a look around. Up here he could see most of downtown Concord. Banners and streamers of red, white, and blue were still hanging from the buildings on either side of Main Street, directly southwest of the church: from there the sounds of gunfire were loudest. Looking around, he saw some five figures with guns shooting up at the Museum of Freedom at the intersection of Main Street and Walden. The museum itself seemed to be in bad shape, with a black Vertibird crashed on the ceiling, caving most of it in. Periodically, there would be a flash of red light followed by a low thwomp. Someone was inside the museum, outnumbered against the ones on the ground.

"Rough indeed," he whispered to the dog, waiting patiently for him on the landing at the top of the steeple. "What do you say, boy? Do you think we can take them?" The dog nodded his head.

Even with 60 shots, the little 10mm handgun didn't have the range to start shooting at the guys on the ground from up here: Nathan would have to surrender the high ground. Down the stairs he went, then out the church and across Monument Square to Main Street. Once he hit Main, he crouched low behind the parked cars to make sure he was unseen. Flitting between rusted wreck to rusted wreck wasn't very sporting, but he needed the cover in order to get the drop on the outnumbering assailants. The closer he came, the louder the sound of gunfire rang in the morning air.

As he came near, he saw five figures dressed in rags firing up at the Museum of Freedom at the intersection of Main and Walden Street. From the building, flashes of red light and deep thwomps were heard; someone with a laser weapon was firing back at those outside. The museum itself seemed to be in poor state: aside from the many bullet holes being peppered onto the front walls with each volley, a black Vertibird, a VTOL aircraft used during the Sino-American War, had crashed on the roof and caved it in. Nathan's heart quickened: was the military still around even after two centuries? Only they could own a Vertibird like that. Was a company down? He had to find out: if they were military, as he was certain they were, they could help him find Shaun.

He turned back to the ones attacking the Museum. Aside from their ragged clothing, they bore no distinctive uniforms or badges to tell who they were. They were making quite a bit of noise, however, and none of it sounded remotely like Chinese. Aiming his Pip-Boy at them from behind cover, the details he got were intriguing. Five humans, none of them farther than a hundred feet away. Above average levels of gamma radiation on their bodies and clothes. Taking out his pistol, Nathan lined up the sights with the green dot on his V.A.T.S. and opened fire. One of the assailants dropped dead.

"Shit! They're shooting at us from the street!" one of them shouted.

"Then keep your head down, dumbass!" came the retort from another one.

Nathan moved from his place of cover, took aim again, and took out one who was wearing a burlap sack on his head.

"Shit shit shit! They got reinforcements!" the first one returned, his voice full of fear.

"Relax, dipshit!" the one who had chided him first replied. "Ain't nobody coming for those assh..."

A bullet sank into his head and he collapsed.

"Fuck! I'm getting outta here!" the scared one exclaimed. "I'll call for back-up!"

"Sit your ass own! I'm finding this son of a bitch!" the other one shouted. He fired off a few rounds at the museum, then ducked behind a barrier of sandbags and started reloading. "Only a fucking coward hides! Come out and play, tough guy!"

"You first!" Nathan retorted.

"Oh, a wise-ass, uh?" returned the assailant. "Well, see how wise you are when I put a bullet in your head and fuck the hole!"

Nathan rose up to fire at the loud-mouth, but saw that he was still under cover. He went down just in time as a hail of bullets came over his head, rattling the car frame around him.

"Watch out, he's got a grenade!" a voice came from behind Nathan. Immediately he ran out of cover as a blast of heat exploded behind him.

"Hah! Found you! Eat lead, cock-su..."

There was a flash of red light, then the thwomp sound, and the assailant dropped to the pavement with a nasty burn mark on his bare chest. Nathan turned around and saw a slouch hat with the right side up peaking out from the balcony of the second story of the museum.

"Up here!" the voice called out. "I got a group of settlers in here, we're pinned down. Grab that laser musket; we could use the help!"

Nathan called after the voice, but the slouch hat vanished and several more thwomps were heard coming from inside the house. Nathan took a look up and down Main Street, and then down Walden; no one there save for the fifth assailant, who was too far away for his handgun. He then turned to the museum and saw, slouched against the open door, a man in a navy blue duster: the sidewalk and stairs leading up to the museum door were stained with his blood, recently shed. He was still clutching in his hands a strange weapon such as Nathan hadn't seen before. It looked as though someone had tried to make a weapon with only a laser rifle's receiver and whatever they had on-hand. Just above the stock was a hand-crank, which he assumed was used to give it juice since it didn't have its own power unit. Taking this and putting it in his duffle bag, Nathan also saw several yellow cylinders on the ground next to the dead man: he pocketed these, instantly recognizing them as fusion cells, and, stepping around the dead man, entered the Museum of Freedom.

* * *

Inside was a mess. Apart from the overall ceiling, a great portion of the second and first story floors had collapsed as well. Louder than outside came the shots inside, and voices hooting and hollering and shouting similar violent sexual threats as those outside had done: none of those voices belonged to the one who had saved him from the molotov cocktail outside. The main gate into the museum was locked, but to the right down the Exhibit Hall was open. With his pistol in hand, Nathan plugged one who went out to check on the commotion; this also wasn't the man who had rescued him, and he certainly wasn't military. Into the Exhibit Hall went Nathan, amid the still-playing pre-recorded sounds of the various exhibits. Men with exaggerated Irish accents exclaimed 'Take back your tea, you jack-o-napes!' and 'No taxation without representation!', hiding his footsteps from his foes. Inside the first exhibit room, the Boston Tea Party of 1773, were still-standing replicas of the HMS Dartsmouth with mannequins dressed haphazardly as 18th century colonials in Mohawk garb, the remnants of their barrels lying broken on the ground around them.

The next room was the Midnight Ride of Paul Revere of 1775 and the Battle of Lexington and Concord; tales which all the lads of Boston in the 2040s knew by heart. Mannequins of the British redcoats still stood at attention, though their opponents, the colonial militia and Revere himself, were missing: only the sounds playing over the speakers, including snippets of the poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, could be heard. Just then Nathan halted as he saw someone coming into the '75 exhibit hall.

"I heard you take out Sniff, asshole," the man replied; not the one from the balcony. "You ain't getting past me."

'The British regulars are on the move! Rise up, good people of Lexington, the British are coming!'

The man let out a nervous cry and shot at the corner of the wall. Nathan took that as his cue and sent two shots into the man's chest: the first one took him down, but the second one was an empty click. He was out. Pausing by a redcoat mannequin, he opened his duffle bag and fished out some bullets for his 10mm. After he was fully loaded, Nathan took his duffle-bag back onto his shoulders, reloaded gun in hand, motioned for the dog to stay back, and left the 18th century.

Gunshots were coming from the main room as two of these ragged thugs were firing at a room on the far-side of the second story. A flash from the laser musket would appear, they'd take cover, and reload and shout threats at those in the other room.

"Once we get inside, we're gonna fucking murder every last one of you do-gooding shit-heads!"

The V.A.T.S. on Nathan's arm was beeping quietly as his wrist pointed to the stairs. One of the two men on the upper level was registering a rather significant limp on his right knee. Using the green dot to guide his aim, Nathan squeezed the trigger and let off a shot at the man's leg. He collapsed with a loud, pathetic whimper.

"My leg!"

"Walk it off, bitch!" the other one returned. "Once we're done, you can shoot up some Jet..."

But he never finished his sentence. Another bullet from Nathan's 10mm tore through his jaw and went straight up into his head. He fell from the second story all the way head-first onto the concrete floor of the basement. For the moment there was quiet, broken only by the sounds from the exhibits, still droning on endlessly. Nathan wondered if there was an atomic battery, a fusion core, somewhere around here, keeping the lights on and the sounds running. Across the broken floor Nathan picked his way, careful not to trip on the many cracked floor-boards. Behind him, the dog deftly leaped over the sharper pieces and on to firmer ground, then halted and looked up the stairs.

The stairs to the right split off in two directions; one of the two had collapsed, while the other wound around to an overhead walkway over which one of the Vertibird's engines was poking through the roof. Nathan didn't see anything up there, but heard sound coming from across the stairs and down the hall to another exhibit: the 20th century. As he was going there, his Pip-Boy was beeping; he had left V.A.T.S. on and it was shutting down. Nathan internally chided himself for not keeping track of his Pip-Boy and crept along in the direction of the sounds.

Just before him the 20th century exhibit opened up with a great mural of the American troops storming Omaha Beach at D-Day, June 6th 1944. Nathan halted. His great-great-grandfather Alan Hall Jr. had been part of the landing party in that particular engagement. The Hall family had a history of faithful service to their country: even if they hadn't seen a day of combat service, at least one member of every generation of Halls were in the US Armed Forces. To most people, even in 2077, this was ancient history, as the War of 1812, where the "Star-Spangled Banner" was written, was to "Big Al" in the 40s. But for Nathan, this was family history.

He heard the voices again. Two others were in this room, chatting in hushed, furtive voices; neither of them had been his rescuer either. Apparently there were others coming for them, even before that one outside got away. Things were about to get hairy soon. Nathan made his way to sneak around the corner and take them by surprise. Peering out from behind the wall that led to the U-shaped room of the Second World War, he caught a glimpse of the two; ragged, unhealthily thin, and covered in dirt and tattoos. He aimed for one...and winced when he heard a loud creak as the floorboard beneath his feet gave him away.

"What the fuck was that?" one of them asked.

"Come on out!" the other shouted. "We promise it'll be quick!" Him and his friend shared a sinister, knowing chuckle: it would be anything but quick, despite their word.

Nathan peered around again and fired at one of the men. A direct hit, but he ducked aside in time and the bullet grazed his shoulder.

"Ah, shit! That stings!"

"What am I, your mother? Stop bitching and kill hi...ah, fuck! My arm!" While the second one was bickering, Nathan shot him in the arm, causing him to drop the weapon he was carrying.

"Oh, what am I, your mother?" mocked the first one.

"Fuck you! All you got was a scratch!" The second one turned around just in time to get pistol-whipped in the face. The grazed one, still in better condition, reached for a baseball bat and took a swing at Nathan. He ducked in time and sent the oaken bat ringing against the wooden frame of the wall. Nathan butted his head with the butt of his gun, then gave him a straight-shot to the head.

* * *

Just then, from nearby, he heard the voice of the one who had rescued him calling for him and a contented yap from the dog. Nathan made his way there and came to a room on the second story of the museum, just above the main entrance. There were five people inside the room. An Asian couple were at one side, her standing with her arms crossed and a sour expression on her face, and him sitting down, head hung, and a look of defeat on his face. There was an old woman in a blue sweater jacket sitting on a couch, with some kind of light blue turban wrapped around her head: the dog had sat next to her, and she was gently petting his head. Nearby there was a man who resembled Nathan himself: dark hair, clean-shaven, rough calloused hands busy typing away at a computer terminal, wearing a set of denim overalls and a pair of welding goggles around his neck.

The fifth person was his rescuer: a young black man almost as tall as he was, wearing a beige duster coat, the slouch hat he had seen from the balcony, leather gloves, and an olive green scarf around his neck. In his hands was the same kind of makeshift laser weapon that Nathan had found on the steps of the museum. As Nathan walked in, he gave the newcomer a grim smile.

"Man, I don't know who you are, but your timing is impeccable," his rescuer replied. "Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen."

"Minutemen?" Nathan chuckled. "So now I'm traveling _backwards_ in time?"

"'Protect the people at a minute's notice,'" replied Preston; there was something reassuringly sincere about his response. "That was the idea. Joined up, wanted to make a difference..." He sighed, and turned his head to his right: Nathan saw a scar running down the left side of his face. "...but things fell apart, and now it looks like I'm the last Minuteman left standing."

"And who are these people?" Nathan gestured.

"Just some folks looking for a new home, a fresh start," Preston answered. "I've been with 'em since Quincy. Lexington looked good for a while, but the ghouls drove us outta there." He sighed heavily, lowering his rifle. "A month ago there were twenty of us; yesterday there were eight. Now it's just us." He went around and introduced everyone in the room: the Asian couple were Jun and Marcy Long, Sturges was the fellow engineer, and the old woman Preston called Mama Murphy.

"Is the dog yours, Mama Murphy?" Nathan asked.

"No, Dogmeat is his own man," the old woman replied; her words were slow and drawn out, and there was something off-putting about her beady blue eyes. "He comes and goes wherever he wants. But he has a good nose about stuff like this; he brought us to you...just as I saw."

"You...saw?" Nathan asked.

"Don't listen to her!" Marcy interjected. "She's probably still baked out of her gourd."

"It's the Sight, kid!" the old woman replied. "I can see things; it's been that way ever since. And I saw your coming."

"You saw me?" Nathan asked incredulously. "Me especially?"

"Look, kid, it ain't always clear," Mama Murphy mumbled. "I saw...something coming, or someone."

"Probably just more Raiders, or ghouls!" Marcy snarled.

"What are ghouls?" Nathan asked.

"Irradiated humans," Preston interjected. "Poor folks who've had too much radiation but haven't had the good fortune to die. Most of them are no different than you and me: but some of them go feral, and they're very dangerous. They chased us out of Lexington."

"Wow," Nathan remarked. "Sorry to hear that. Must have been rough."

"Thanks, man," Preston replied. "It's...good to meet someone who really cares." There was something hopeful about the way he said those words. "Anyway, we came here, thinking it might be a safe place to settle: but those raiders proved us wrong. There's one other idea we have..."

"What is it?"

"Sturges, tell him."

The engineer turned around. "We heard them raiders talkin' 'bout bringin' reinforcements back here to polish us off. Lucky for us, there's a crashed Vertibird sittin' on top o'th'roof: old school, pre-war, you might'a seen it. Looks like one o'its passengers left behind a seriously sweet goodie: we're talkin' a full suit o'cherry T-45 Power Armor. Military issue."

Nathan's lips curled into a cocky grin. He had seen the work of T-45s firsthand during the liberation of Alaska: suits of armor that could rip the gun from a Chinese Chimera Tank and make numbers in manpower count for next to nothing. Even though they burned through their atomic fusion cores like a teenager through a cigarette carton, they turned the tide in favor of the USC.

"Now we're talkin'," Nathan said with a smile.

"Protection with the added bonus o' whoop-ass," Sturges replied. "Get the suit and you can rip the minigun off'the Vertibird: do that, and those raiders get an express ticket t'hell. Ya dig? Trouble is, it's outta juice: probably has been for a hundred years. It can be powered up again, but we're a bit stuck."

"What can I do to help?"

"If you've got a pre-war FC on hand, that'll do the trick," Preston said.

"FC?"

"A fusion core? Your high-grade, long-term, nuclear battery used by the military and some companies way back when. We know where to find one..."

"...but, trouble is, we can't get to the damn thing," Sturges interjected. "It's down in the basement, locked behind a security gate."

"Can't you get to it, though?" Nathan asked. "I saw you working on that terminal just a moment ago."

"Look, I fix stuff, I tinker," Sturges explained. "Bypassin' security ain't exactly my forte. You could give it a shot, though."

Nathan chuckled inside. What made this guy think some stranger could do what they couldn't? After all, he was more himself like Sturges here. Before entering the USC Military, Nathan had finished trade school as an engineer. The one in the family with the computer know-how was lying in a cryo-pod in Vault 111. Just the same, Nathan agreed to help them out: maybe it was the renewed hope of seeing other humans still alive, and more put-together than Codsworth had made him fear to believe. Maybe it was Sturges, the kindred spirit, or maybe it was Preston's sincerity.

With the dog named Dogmeat resting upstairs with Mama Murphy, Nathan went alone down into the basement. True enough, he found the power generator still running after all these years: the source of the lights and sounds in the exhibit rooms. The gate was locked tight, and he still hadn't found any bobby pins. To the right of the door was a security terminal, which he decided to access. From what little he knew about computers, he knew that most of them had a fail-safe to prevent hacking: a user was allowed four attempts to input the correct password before the terminal was reset for ten minutes. Looking around at the keyboard, he tried to notice anything that might help him with the password. There were no hints written down on the case for the screen, or the keyboard. The only thing that was anywhere remotely helpful was that certain keys, through overuse, had finger-smudges on them that centuries of dust couldn't erase. The keys with the clearest smudges, which Nathan guessed were used for inputting the password, were these: _E-R-V-1-5-7_.

But that was maddeningly unhelpful. Six characters could give any number of combinations, any one of them more absurd than the last. He tried _51E7RV_: incorrect. Three more tries. _REV517_ and _VER175_ also proved to be incorrect: only one chance left. Nathan wracked his brains over and over to come up with some kind of combination for the password. Then, from upstairs, came the hint from the man himself on the exhibit speaker: 'Awake, men of Middlesex! The King's regulars are coming out!'

_REVERE1775_. Correct password. Nathan unlocked the door from the terminal, then opened the door up and approached the power generator. Warily he reached over and pulled out the fusion core: a small cylindrical thing, about the size of a can of food, but lead-lined to prevent radiation damage. He then made his way back up to the room where Preston and the others were, and they directed him to a door on the far side of the room that had stairway access to the roof.

* * *

On the roof, a chill wind blew Nathan's dark brown hair as he came upon the collapsed roof and the Vertibird in the middle. Sure enough, standing there was the T-45 Power Armor suit: Nathan grinned cockily as he saw it. The leg-plates seemed to have been damaged the most, and there was some wear and tear on the left arm, but the chest-piece and helmet were intact. Thankfully the hydraulics on the exo-skeleton were still functioning, which meant that it could still swing tank cannons like a baseball bat and drop from a hundred feet without damaging the passenger. On the back of the chest piece was a hole for the fusion core; Nathan shoved the atomic battery inside, a snug fit, then gave it one last push with his fist to get it connected. The onboard computer began beeping and whirring with power, and Nathan grabbed the wheel that sat over the fusion core and turned it roughly to the right. The back part of the chest piece opened up and allowed him to step inside the exo-skeleton. Once inside, the armor closed in around him.

"Nice!" Nathan smiled.

"Incoming!" came Preston's voice from below.

"They're inside!" came the voice of the raider who had gotten away, echoing from down the street. "They took out Phil, Sniff, and the others!"

"Light those fuckers up!"

But now Nathan was prepared for them. Awkwardly he moved forward and felt the heavy machine move according to his body. He walked over to the bay of the crashed Vertibird, whose doors had been permanently jammed open, and ripped the minigun from its swivel with the ease of tearing open a box of Sugar Bombs cereal. Now he turned his attention to those below: a group of these ragged-looking "raiders" were coming down Walden Street toward the museum. He aimed the minigun towards the street, squeezed the trigger, and waited as the barrels started to spin.

"Holy fucking shit!" one of the raiders cried out. "They got a fucking minigun!"

"Fuck that! I ain't dyin' for this shit!"

"Get back here or I'll fucking ra..."

At that moment, a hail of bullets rained down on Walden Street. Like cockroaches scurrying from the light, the raiders ran for cover behind cars, piles of rubble, and the walls and doors of the nearby buildings. Some made it, but others weren't quick enough and got a round of bullets in their legs, sending them down to the ground. They tried to crawl back into cover, or call out to their fellows for help; but these types were each man for themselves when the fight turned against them. Nathan brought the stream of bullets back around, picking off those who had been crippled in the initial sweep. The minigun's fail-safe clicked the trigger back into place, slowing down the barrels that were starting to glow red at the tips, acrid smoke pouring out of them.

"We're coming for you, asshole!" shouted one of the raiders from below, as the bullet barrage came to an end.

Nathan examined the minigun; half of the bullet belt was still available for the next round, and there were still two more belts in the massive ammo cartridge for more rounds. All it needed was some time to cool off. But now the raiders were entrenched in their hiding places, haphazardly aiming their weapons to fire from cover and expose themselves as little as possible. Nathan decided that, in order to reach them, it would be best to lose the height advantage and face them on the street. After all, the chest-piece was still intact and could take straight-shots from the .38 caliber weapons they were using. Heaving the hefty M134 with both of his hands, Nathan lumbered over to the edge of the museum, reminding himself over and over that all would be well, and leaped off the building.

He landed with a heavy crash; the hydraulic supports and concussion dampeners on the exo-skeleton prevented any damage of limbs or disorientation from hitting solid ground. Once he landed and the raiders got a good look at him: they knew it was all over.

"Holy shit! They've got Power Armor! Run for it!"

Nathan started up the firing mechanism and held on for dear life as another round of bullets sprayed out of the barrels. They never had a chance, but were cut down like grass before the lawnmower. There was a sudden tremor as Nathan was aiming for the last three running for their lives, and the gun went off-target. By the time the shaking stopped, the bullet belt was empty. Nathan unclipped it from the loader and fished into the ammo cartridge for the next belt. A few bullets came his way from the fleeing raiders, but they ricocheted off the armor's metal surface.

The tremor came again. A third time it rang, shaking the ground, and then a fourth time. Something was banging on something very hard and very loudly. Nathan's heart froze and his mouth went dry. He had seen cockroaches the size of cats, flies the size of watermelons, mole-rats the size of dogs, and heard of many other nasty things: but these were still of manageable sizes. What could be making such a racket that would shake the ground? He quickened his pace in clipping the bullet belt into the loader and gripping the handles of his minigun, when suddenly a large slab of dirt and asphalt came flying up out of the ground.

"Oh my god!" one of the raiders cried in abject horror.

Out of the ground came something unlike Nathan had ever imagined in his darkest nightmares. What it was or what it had been he could not rightly tell. It stood some nine feet tall, and was covered from head to tail in scales like an alligator. From the top of its shoulders down to its tail were many horned protrusions, like the two crowning its head, its mouth was full of pointed teeth, and its hands and feet were filled with sharp, curved, deadly claws that looked as though they could tear through the T-45's chest-plate like a can-opener. It let out a deadly roar as it charged towards the raiders. The nearest one was snatched up in one hand and bitten off from the right shoulder to just below the left breast in one swift bite, leaving his left arm to fall to the ground in a bloody mess. The furthest of the other two was already running for his life, not even bothering to shoot at the beast.

Nathan was squeezing the life out of the trigger as the monster now came for the third raider. With a swipe of its giant clawed hands, the raider went flying into a building and hit the brick wall with a sickening squelch as his skull shattered against the bricks. Now a hail of bullets came from the minigun directly at the monster; the beast's thick hide seemed to be keeping them out just fine, for not a single drop of blood was being shed, even though Nathan kept himself dead-locked onto the beast.

"Holy crap, a deathclaw!" Preston cried out.

From overhead, as Nathan poured round after round of 5mm bullets into the beast, flashes from Preston's laser musket lanced overhead. But the beast's scaly hide was as impervious to laser blasts as the T-45 was to the raiders' weapons. It was fast closing the distance between the two of them, and Nathan had to make a decision immediately or be ripped to shreds by the monster's claws. Too late! The monster took a swing at him with its massive clawed hand; Nathan held his left arm up instinctively, and the hand came down. There was a horrible rending sound of claws against steel, and Nathan gaped in horror as the metal plates on the left arm were being torn apart, revealing the exo-skeleton beneath. From above, Preston continued to fire at the beast, to little effect.

A stray blast struck the beast in the eye, and now its attention was turned toward the museum and away from Nathan. Pushing himself up onto his feet, and ignoring the scraps of steel shedding sparks and falling off his left arm, he heaved the minigun back up and took aim at the beast, who was now lumbering toward a Corvega. With both hands, it seized the rustling vehicle and was now attempting to lift it up. Nathan squeezed the trigger and held on for dear life as another round of bullets tore at the monster. So great was the recoil that his aim was being pushed steadily upward. A stray bullet penetrated the metal frame and pierced the lead-casing around the fusion-powered engine. There was a bright flash and a sudden burst of heat: the worst of it absorbed by the chest-piece of the Power Armor. In his shock and horror, Nathan released the trigger and covered his face with his hands.

The monster was stumbling back from the explosion. Nathan grit his teeth and squeezed the trigger again, unloading the rest of the bullet belt into the beast. It crouched as a shot struck its left leg, and then stumbled back as it took to all fours and received another blow through a weak-point in its armor around the right arm. Nathan's adrenaline was pumping and, fueled by that, did something he would never have done under normal circumstances. Striding toward the stumbling beast, he held the minigun inches away from its face, squeezed the trigger, and emptied the last of the belt into its face. At last the monster was stilled, unmoving.

* * *

Nathan was heaving from exhaustion. He let the minigun down, reached over across his back and pressed the manual release button; the back of the suit opened up and allowed him to step out. He was just Nathan Hall again. But his chest was still heaving in exhaustion. The bright flash from the Corvega's explosion had brought back horrifying memories of that final moment; the day humanity nearly destroyed itself. Though he hadn't been looking at the blast when it happened, the sudden flash of light, like the birth of a sun or the Second Coming, was seared into his memory. And then there was the monster, the thing Preston called a deathclaw: aptly named, if nothing else. He could feel his hands trembling as he leaned against the entrance to the museum and made his way back inside.

In the main room, on the lower level, sitting on some benches, standing on watch, or pacing the floor, were the folks from the second story. The old woman, Mama Murphy, had something in her hands that looked like a rescue inhaler; she held it up to her lips and pressed the top, then leaned back on the bench, her eyes rolling back into her skull. Preston shook his head, then turned to see Nathan arrive.

"Man, I'm glad you're on our side!" he exclaimed. "That was amazing!"

"I...I couldn't have done it without your help," Nathan stammered.

"That's what we do," Preston replied. "We help out our friends."

Nathan took a moment to catch his breath. "Are you guys gonna be okay?"

"For a while, anyway," Preston answered, resuming his stoic demeanor. "We can at least move someplace safe."

"Sanctuary..." muttered Mama Murphy beneath her breath.

"What's she saying?" Nathan asked.

"She's having another one of her stoned-out visions," Marcy chided bitterly from where she paced the floor.

"It's not the first time she's had this one in particular," Preston said. "When there were more of us, I asked around. They said that Sanctuary was some old neighborhood to the northwest. Maybe it's a new start for us."

"And you're trusting her...visions or whatever?" Nathan asked.

"Just what I said!" exclaimed Marcy.

"It's not like we're spoiled for options," Preston returned. His lips curled into a hopeful smile. "Why don't you come with us? You're pretty good in a fight. You might be able to help us out."

Nathan turned to Preston. He wondered if they would be able to help him find Shaun if he helped them back. It seemed absurd that five people - one of them clearly still shell-shocked, and the other too old to wield a gun - could be of any help to him. But they would likely know the area more than he did, and right now they were his only allies besides Codsworth.

"You know what? I'll help you get there," he replied.

"That's great news!" Preston grinned. "Maybe our luck is finally turning around." He turned to the others and told them to move out. Dogmeat was the first one onto his feet - or paws as the case may be - and cocked his head hopefully towards the right side, looking at Nathan. Jun was still shivering on the ground where he sat. It took Marcy's persistent nagging for him to finally get back up onto his feet. It took both Sturges and Preston to help Mama Murphy off of the couch. It began to dawn on Nathan that there had been something else inside that inhaler.

"Come on, ol' gal, up you get," Sturges said.

"You know you shouldn't take that junk," Preston told her. "It's killing you!"

"We're all dying, kid," she slurred. "Might as well...go out with a smile...and help others...wait! Wait!" She told them to stop as they passed Nathan. Her eyes opened up, blood-shot and drifting as if not focused on one thing in particular.

"I know your pain," she said to him. "But all's not lost. I can feel...your son's energy. He's alive!"

"What the hell?" Nathan exclaimed, his heart quickening and his throat tightening. Was Shaun alive?

"Don't listen to her," Marcy snapped. "She's stoned out of her gourd. She's just talking shit."

But Nathan was desperate. "Mama Murphy, what can you tell me? Where is he?"

"I...I don't know for sure," the old woman drawled. "But...I can feel his energy...his life force. He's out there...and even I don't need the Sight to tell you where you should start lookin'..." She lowered her voice to almost an awe-filled, barely audible whisper.

"The great green jewel of the Commonwealth. Diamond City. The biggest settlement around."

"Where's that?" Nathan asked. "I've never heard of it."

"Really?" Preston asked. "You've never heard of Diamond City?"

"It's...complicated," Nathan replied. "How do I get there?"

"Follow the road east until you reach Lexington, then turn south," Preston began. "Once you hit the river, just follow that east and you'll reach Diamond City soon enough. I gotta tell you, though, it's not easy. It's a half day's journey from here, and it's more dangerous now that the Minutemen are all but gone. Ferals will be the worst thing you'll encounter, but there'll likely be more raiders. I know you're tough, but they've got numbers on their hands. And don't take the overpasses either; that's Gunner territory."

"Gunners?"

"Mercenaries. They're organized, highly trained, and heavily armed. They make raiders look like a bunch of kids playing with sticks. Of course, there are other threats."

"What other threats?"

"Nothing as bad as a deathclaw, I hope," Preston said. "Rumor has it most of the big monsters are further south."

"Except this one."

"Our battle with the raiders must have driven it out of hiding somewhere. But there are other things that prowl around up here. Super mutants: green brutes as big as these deathclaws, but...well, a little bit smarter than animals. And they have guns too." He sighed. "Look, it's too late to go to Diamond City now. Close to midday: it'll be night before you get there. And once the sun goes down, things get even worse. If you'd like, you could follow us to Sanctuary; we don't have much, but we'll give you whatever we have to help you on your way."

Nathan nodded. "Sure."

* * *

**(AN: I have so much to say about the lore of Fallout and how that relates to my writing process, but the author's notes feel like too little space for it. Hit me up in a PM if you want the full rant [and trust me, there's a lot to go through]. Some of the changes involve potential spoilers, so I won't delve into that either.)**


	3. Glue and Steel

**(AN: So that last chapter turned out to be much longer than I thought it would be. So I decided to wrap it up and go forward with this chapter. I couldn't find a song title to go with this chapter, so I came up with something funny. I wonder if you'll figure it out.)**

**(I decided to stop making Vault-Tec an acronym because it was tedious, and will go back to the other two chapters to fix that. It's not an error, just me being lazy.)**

* * *

**Glue and Steel**

Out from the museum they went and hit the road to Sanctuary; Nathan climbed back in to the Power Armor suit and followed on behind as the rearguard, while Preston led the vanguard at the front. Another twenty-three minute walk brought the little party to Sanctuary. They started milling around and checking out the houses, what few of them were still standing. To Nathan it seemed rather odd, this band of vagabonds rummaging through what had once been his neighborhood. They moved in to the yellow house across from Nathan's old house and started working around to try and make the place feel more like home. Nathan deposited the Power Armor suit nearby and decided to give them a hand, as they had helped him out by giving him directions for where to go.

It didn't take long for Nathan to start warming up to Sturges: he was someone who could make just about anything out of just about anything. Together, he and Nathan went to work clearing away any salvageable wood and steel from the collapsed houses and setting them aside in a pile near the yellow house. Jun helped out periodically, but spoke very little beyond a simple 'yes' or 'no.' Codsworth, upon hearing that the new arrivals were friendly and seeing that there was work that needed to be done, was more than happy to volunteer himself for service. Once they had a pile of wood together, they took the wood to the eastern edge of Sanctuary, on the shores of the Concord River, and started placing them in regular intervals as a fence. Panels of wood and aluminum siding were situated between the poles, along with spare tires that had fallen off the cars in the garages. By and by, a fence was starting to take shape that would provide some protection for the folks in Sanctuary.

As for Preston, he patrolled the area with his laser musket, keeping an eye on anything that might attack them while they were working. Marcy was in the backyard of the yellow house, tearing up the ground and depositing tiny seeds for growing plants. Mama Murphy helped out very little; for she went inside the houses, looking for things which she didn't reveal to the others, and would come back with something valuable for them, but not for her.

The hours passed on and they continued working. The fence was coming along just nicely when they noticed that the sun was sinking into the west. Here Nathan, Sturges, Jun, and Codsworth left off the building of the fence to address another problem which the new inhabitants of Sanctuary would be facing: the lack of beds. None of the beds in the houses were in any usable state, but that didn't stop Sturges. With a few nails and a lot of patience, he managed to make three frames sturdy enough for beds. Finding bedding was another issue. There was a couch in the yellow house whose back-pillows could be used to make a bed, but there were six people and only three beds - plus the couch on which to sleep. Dogmeat found a dog-house near one of the collapsed houses, and whined and begged until Nathan and Sturges brought it over to his old house and set it up there. When night finally came, all of them were huddled inside the yellow house. It had holes in the roof, and the windows were busted out, but they were all of them grateful for having a roof over their heads for the night: all of them except Marcy Long.

"It's a fucking dump!" she complained. "It'll take weeks for the food to come in. We could all be dead by then. And what are we gonna do about clean water? Better make sure that fence gets put up soon, because I am _not_ spending the night here if ghouls are going to be sneaking up on us from behind! God, and would you just _look_ at the joke of a bed we have to sleep on? Those pillows will do nothing for my back."

But her sentiment was not shared by the others. They lit candles on a table they had found and set up in the living room of the yellow house, turned on the little radio and listened to Billy Ward and the Dominoes sing about the "Sixty Minute Man." Sturges seemed the most proud of the work they had done since then, and was more than grateful for Nathan coming along with them. Jun expressed gratitude as well, but very seldom and retreated back into his reserved, mournful state. Mama Murphy wouldn't say if she found what she was looking for, but she was also thankful for the place to sleep and the home they were building for themselves.

After Billy Ward, the disc-jockey came on with an advertisement: a skittish young man stumbling over his every word and awkwardly trying to make levity. Nathan rolled his eyes: it reminded him of an exaggerated version of himself, sitting in front of the bathroom mirror some two hundred years ago, fretting over what he would say to a room of Army veterans when he gave his speech. He could almost picture Nora telling him, both Nathan and this Travis fellow on the radio, that everything would be just fine, and then impart some sage wisdom likely gleaned from her mother that would make everything better. That only soured his mood and made him feel gloomy. For Marcy Long, it was even worse.

"For fuck's sake, turn that off!" she snapped. "What does he have to be whiny about? He didn't lose his son!" She picked up a broken piece of board and chucked it at the radio. It missed and bounced off the wall, but didn't turn off the radio. Marcy got up in a huff and stomped off to the other room to sleep on her pillow-laden bed. Jun got up, flipped the switch on the radio, then turned to Nathan.

"Don't take it personally," he said. "She means well, she's just...well, we're all a little shaken up over our loss. We're really grateful for all that you've done here." He then went off after Marcy.

"Not to be a damp rag," Sturges interjected. "And I ain't complainin' about this place. It's a skip and a hop better than some o'the other dumps we've been to. But it's gonna be a long time till we get this up and runnin'. And there'll be plenty of hard days ahead of us. For starters, we'll need to figure out the water situation double-quick."

"Any ideas?" Nathan asked.

"There's some ground here we could start digging into," he said. "I could Jerry-rig us a pump or two and that'd do the trick. Trouble is, all the ground water's irradiated, even the river. We'd have to boil it ourselves before usin' it. If I had a generator, I'd fix us up a water purifier that'd get our water straight from the river and solve most of our problems."

"What would you need for that?"

"Well, most o'the stuff can be found here in Sanctuary," Sturges continued, staring up at the ceiling from the chair where he sat at the table. "Copper, rubber, gears, and steel from the cars, ceramics from the broken bath-tubs. Once that's done, we'll have to find cloth to strain out most o'the non-atomic impurities. Of course, that's in short supply since we're lookin' for that for the beds. Same as adhesives. That's always the first thing we always run out of when workin', and it's always the rarest thing to find." He turned back to Nathan. "You find any industrial-strength adhesive - tape, glue, don't matter, as long as it sticks - send it over to ol' Sturges. Be a godsend."

"I'll see what I can do," Nathan replied.

Nathan was still feeling restless: his first day up after so long asleep - he still could barely wrap his mind around the fact that he had been in cyrogenic sleep for over two hundred years - and he had more than enough energy, despite all that had happened. He let Sturges have the couch and walked around Sanctuary at dusk. From the bedroom, he could hear Marcy shoving Jun off the cushions and onto the bare side of the bed-frame. He wanted to say that there was a spare bed to sleep in, but Mama Murphy was snoring loudly and he didn't want to disturb their sleep. Codsworth, who needed no sleep, was patrolling the old house as before, hovering this way and that. Preston was remaining on his watch, whistling periodically to alleviate the tedium. Nathan continued strolling about, sometimes playing Nora's holotape just for the euphoria of hearing her voice again. At length he went inside the House of Tomorrow, what little was left of it, and stretched himself out on the couch, whose cushions were now being used to support Marcy Long across the street. His sleep was disturbed by images of that last morning two hundred years ago, when everything changed.

* * *

The sun rose around 6:30 in the morning, according to the Pip-Boy on Nathan's arm. Codsworth was the one to wake him up; his internal programming remembering the contingency should 'Sir' hit the snooze button on his alarm clock. Nathan was especially grumpy: he was dreaming of him and Nora, lying on the grass and wrapped in each other's arms in Heywood Meadows a summer long ago, joined at the mouth. The morning light sent the pleasant dream into the ether, and Nathan now had to prepare for the day's journey to Diamond City.

The settlers were already up and readying for the day's work. Sturges was getting to work on the wall, and Marcy and Jun were busying themselves with food for six: pork n'beans and bits of squirrel meat. Despite the repulsive sounding name, Preston assured him that the food caught out in the wild was often better than anything in cans.

"You hunt it and cook it yourself," he explained. "And you'll burn away all that unwanted radiation. The stuff in cans might be good, but then again it might not be. And it's had a long time to sit with all the radiation around."

Nathan accepted a small helping for the morning: aside from the metallic taste of the pork n'beans, which he attributed to the canning process, the squirrel tasted like a nuttier type of chicken. For the journey ahead, there wasn't much else besides what Nathan had in his duffle bag. Codsworth had for him an aluminum can which he had filled with water from the river and boiled to remove all impurities. Preston gave him a box of 10mm bullets and twenty bottle-caps, most of them with a Nuka-Cola logo on them.

"Bottle caps?" Nathan remarked. "What do I use these for?"

"Trade 'em for goods and services," Preston replied.

"You mean people use bottle caps instead of money?" Nathan asked. "How did _that_ happen?"

"I'm not exactly sure," Preston said. "But I heard that two hundred years ago, they started using them for that purpose. Guess it stuck on, 'cuz we've been using caps ever since."

"Thank you, then," Nathan returned.

"Before you go, I wanted to say thanks again for helping us get here," Preston added. "This place is really something. I'm sure with a lot of work, we can make this a home for ourselves."

"Hope you enjoy my old neighborhood."

"Your neighborhood? What do you mean? No one's been here for years."

"Well, I certainly liked living here back then," Nathan replied with a cocky grin. "Before the War."

Preston chuckled. "Come on, man; what war? What are you talking about?"

Nathan sighed. "Well, I used to live here some two hundred years ago. I was...frozen or something for most of it. Only just woke up this morning."

"Damn!" Preston exclaimed. "Like one of those old ghouls. Did anyone else happen to make it out with you?"

"Just my son," came the wearied answer. "He was...kidnapped while I was still trapped. I've been looking for him."

Preston's lightness faded and he resumed once again his stoic demeanor. "Damn. I'm sorry. Hope you find him. Let me know if there's any way I can help."

"Thanks," Nathan repeated. "So, what happens now?"

"We'll rebuild," Preston said, shouldering his laser musket. "Once we're on our feet, I'll start reaching out to whoever I can. Traders pass through here on their way to Far Harbor or the Capital Wasteland; they'll know of any settlements that might need our help."

"Our help?" Nathan asked. "You're just five."

"Now we're six. We've got to show the Commonwealth that the Minutemen are still around, making a difference. And the more people we help, the more people decide to join the Minutemen. Pretty soon, we'll have enough support to do some real good."

"Sounds like a good idea, if it works."

"It has to work." The way Preston said this was surprising. He wasn't stoic or enthusiastic at all; only a fatalistic resignation that there wasn't any other option but to succeed. It spoke to Nathan very strongly.

"If I have the time in my search," he said. "I'll come by and help you."

"Don't stay away too long," Preston returned, a hopeful smile on his face.

"And don't forget the adhesives!" Sturges inserted as he passed them by.

Codsworth offered to accompany Nathan, but he refused; as the robot was keen to point out, he wasn't a Mr. Gutsy and therefore not a combat model. Instead, he would remain behind and help the settlers of Sanctuary in rebuilding and maintaining their little dwelling place. As for Dogmeat, the German Shepherd followed after Nathan with a hopeful look in his big brown eyes. Nathan couldn't say no to such an argument, and so he set out on the long and winding road by foot from Sanctuary to Diamond City, accompanied by Dogmeat.

* * *

The road was long and arduous. Were it not for Dogmeat, Nathan would have no company whatsoever and would have been driven crazy by the silence. There was hardly any sound at all on the road; only the shuffling of his Vault-suit's boots on the dusty highway. Periodically he would tune in to the radio on his Pip-Boy to alleviate the silence. There were only two radio stations that came in: the one he had heard last night, Diamond City Radio as run by the awkward Travis, and a channel that played only classical music. For several hours he would just keep the channel on DCR, enjoying Dion singing the song of "The Wanderer" to get himself in the walking spirit. Other times he would turn the radio off and replay Nora's holotape.

He had gotten his start from Sanctuary at 7 sharp and had at least a good six hours ahead of him by foot. Aside from the loneliness, the deafening silence and stillness of the air was unnerving. Even the sky, bare and without a single cloud, seemed ominous. He felt markedly exposed and open, walking with none but a dog for company. The radio, while a comforting presence, screeched and bellowed so loudly that he doubted not that any one for miles around with ears would hear him. Sometimes he would shut the radio off and keep his ears peeled, listening to the stillness around him, hoping to catch someone off-guard before they found him. But all he saw in such cases were two strange creatures wandering off the road. The first was a deer with no fur and two heads protruding from its body. Around 9 o'clock he saw another two-headed creature: this time a cow.

By the third hour, things started to change: and not at all for the better. The first thing Nathan saw were crows cawing overhead as they flew. Ordinarily, such a sight would be little cause for concern. But out here, where nothing lived that was not horribly disfigured - save for Dogmeat - the sight of crows and the sound of their hollow, mocking caws was unnerving. Here and there they would come across dead bodies that had been picked clean or horribly mangled. Nathan kept his gun in hand, wary still of anything that might attack them.

After many hours of travel, they passed the southern limits of Lexington, as could be displayed by the broken, rusting, and bullet-ridden signs they approached. Now the road they were following widened and they were forced to follow along its northern side, keeping to cover. The signs and collapsed houses they were approaching bore a skull painted in white with a black X on its forehead: a foreboding presence, even if Nathan had no idea what it meant. Like a soldier going from house to house in a war-zone, Nathan passed through houses that had been deserted long ago, or had collapsed from destruction or lack of use. Some of them still bore the tattered remains of posters planted there before the Great War: advertisements for Corvega cars, Abraxo detergent, Sugar Bombs, and the ever-popular Nuka-Cola. Some of these had been tagged with rude graffiti. Most of it was illegible, written in the uncouth script of the illiterate street, but some words could be discerned. Nathan caught phrases such as 'Go Away', 'Fuck Off', or 'Die' among the more frequently used ones. But the streets were empty.

Still Nathan went forward, going into what remained of a great city. He hadn't found the Charles River yet, which he knew was his ticket to Diamond City. About noon, Nathan found himself before the pillared facade of a structure which he knew from personal experience. He recalled visiting Nora's parents back before everything went down and seeing a picture of her beaming proudly before the pillars front of Harvard University, where she had attended law school. His thoughts drifted back to Nora and, like a junkie going for the needle, his hand went to his Pip-Boy to play the holotape yet again. But his hand nudged the radio dial and he heard a third sound: neither Gustav Holst's "The Bringer of War" nor Danny Kaye and the Andrews Sisters.

"...e Haylen...connaissan... ...Gladi..."

Nathan played around with the dial until the message came in clearer. As the static started to dissipate, he could clearly make out a woman's voice.

"...Arx. Ferrum. 9-5. Our unit has sustained casualties and we're running low on supplies. We're requesting support or evac from our position at Cambridge Police Station. Automated message repeating. This is Scribe Haylen of Reconnaissance Squad Gladius to any unit in transmission range. Authorization..."

The message repeated from where Nathan had tuned in. This sounded like a military distress call. Nathan's training snapped back into play. It was his duty to locate the reconnaissance squad and offer what assistance he could give them. Gritting his teeth to forget the ache burning his feet, he started looking around to get his bearings. If this was the front of Harvard, that meant he was just a block or two away from Harvard College Square. Then he heard the sound of gunfire coming from somewhere in the southeast. He little needed the map now.

Across the brown yard of Harvard he ran, passing by the brazen statue of its founder on his right. He was now on Massachusetts Avenue; into his mind he recalled driving past a police station all those years ago. He must be getting close. Checking the clip in his 10mm, he turned a right down the winding Bow Street. The sounds of battle were getting louder. Now he could plainly hear an electronic thwomp, similar to Preston's laser musket. He rounded the corner where, appropriately enough, Bow Street curved and turned sharply southeastward into Arrow Street.

Here he saw the Cambridge Police Station, the front precinct barricaded with junk walls similar to those that he and Sturges had erected outside of Sanctuary. The sounds of battle were now loud and apparent. Bullets and the periodic thwomp of a laser rifle, amid howling and moaning sounds. Then it struck him! Something cold and clammy seized him from behind with strong fingers. It was growling and slavering madly as it tried to subdue its captured prize. It might have been an unfortunate end for Nathan had Dogmeat not leaped upon the assailant and, jaws digging into rotting flesh, ripped the arm clean off the monster's body. Nathan was now free; he turned around, gun in hand, and unloaded three rounds into the attacker's body. It fell to the ground with a sickening squelch.

"What the hell!" Nathan exclaimed.

The thing that attacked him was of vague human shape. Aside from its right arm, it had all of its limbs and most of its smaller appendages: minus a few fingers and toes. It looked like an emaciated human whose skin had rotted away, leaving only its bloody muscles exposed to the world and elements. It was clothed, but the clothes it wore were even more ragged and tattered than those that the raiders in Concord had worn.

But Nathan's contemplation was broken by three warning barks from Dogmeat. He turned back to the police station. More of these monsters were lumbering or catering haphazardly towards the walled precinct. Gunshots and blasts of energy were heard from within, and Nathan once again sprung into action. Armed only with his pistol, he started shooting as many of the monsters as came within his sights. At his side was Dogmeat, ever vigilant, biting and tearing any who tried to take him down from the rear. A shot through the head sent the last creature to the ground, bleeding from the bullet wound.

"Check your fire! We've got civies!" came a commanding, authoritative voice from the other side of the wall.

Nathan slowly walked inside and saw an unholy mess. Numerous such monsters as those he had seen outside were lying dead all around the compound. Some of them were half-burned and lying half-broken in a pool of atomized dust. Standing at the bottom of the steps leading into the police station was a man in a suit of T-60 Power Armor: stronger and more efficient than the T-45. Nathan recognized the model from the soldiers stationed outside of Vault 111 just before the bombs hit. The suit had no helmet, and his head was just barely visible amid the tank-like suit: he was unshaven and dirty, and his hair hidden beneath a military-issue skull-cap. In his hands was a laser rifle like the ones Nathan had used during the liberation of Alaska. Behind him were two others, one of whom seemed to be wounded.

"We appreciate the assistance, civilian," he greeted Nathan in a no-nonsense military tone. "But what's your business here?"

"Before I answer," Nathan returned. "Would you mind telling me who you are?"

"In due time," the metal-clad soldier evaded. "If you want to remain on our compound, I suggest you answer my question first. Are you from a local settlement?"

"I'm from Sanctuary to the northwest," Nathan answered.

"Hmmm, not anything of importance out that way," the soldier replied.

"What's with all the questions?" Nathan asked. "I did help you against those...things."

"Feral ghouls, abominations of the worst sort," the soldier replied with disgust. As if to push his point home, he brought the foot of his Power Armor suit down onto the head of one of the dead ghouls and crushed it into a bloody pulp. He then turned back to Nathan. "You'll have to forgive me if I seem suspicious. Since the moment we arrived in the Commonwealth, we've been constantly under fire. If you'd like to continue helping us, we could use an extra gun on our side."

"First things first," Nathan interjected, upon noticing the emblem blazoned onto his armor's chest-piece: a sword with eagles wings spreading out from the hilt, and cradled within the wings three cogs. "I want to know who you are and who you're working for, if I'm going to be helping you. I've had more than my share of secrets for three lifetimes."

The soldier frowned. "Paladin Danse, Brotherhood of Steel. On the stairs are my colleagues, Scribe Haylen and Knight Rhys. We're on recon duty but I'm down a man and our supplies are running low. I've been trying to send a distress call to my superiors, but the signal's too weak to reach them. We believe there's a device that can help us fifteen clicks west of here: a Deep Range Transmitter."

"Fifteen miles?!" Nathan exclaimed. It was almost the entire journey he had made out here. It would be nightfall by the time he reached wherever it was that they were looking for.

"I know the road is long," Paladin Danse said. "But you'll be helping the Brotherhood of Steel."

"And who are the Brotherhood of Steel?"

"We are the best and only hope for humanity. A strong, organized military order that brings peace and stability wherever we go, while preserving the past to safeguard the future."

"Nice slogans," Nathan remarked.

"These are more than just empty words," Danse continued. "They are our way of life. That's why we're here, to keep the technological terrors out of the hands of those too foolish for their own good."

"So...you hoard technology?" Nathan asked. "Are you like scavengers, then?"

"Not at all," said Danse, a hint of disapproval in his voice. "A scavenger takes what he wants to benefit himself. The Brotherhood preserves what we take to benefit all of mankind; especially in preventing the abuse of said technology."

"What do you mean by abuse?"

"The atomic bomb, bio-engineered plagues, the Forced-Evolutionary Virus: all of them technological terrors of the old world. In its quest to seek answers about the world, mankind was playing with toys far too powerful for them. Now the world lives in the shadow of the horrors of science and technology left unbridled, unrestrained. The Brotherhood is here to make sure that never happens again. So, I've told you my story; what do you say? Will you help us?"

Nathan looked this way and that, casting his eyes periodically southward. So close and yet so far away. He wanted to leave and continue on his own personal quest, but he also had his duty. These may very well be all that was left of the military, if only because of their Power Armor. As for what Danse said, it had a ring of truth that connected with Nathan. He guessed that this man was about the same age as him, if not a few years younger. For him, the stories that he had been told were ancient history: for Nathan, all of that had happened but a day or so ago, even though it was over two hundred years away.

"I'm in," he said at last.

"Outstanding," Danse said, a smile on his face. He then strode over to his companions and gave orders for Scribe Haylen to take Knight Rhys inside and bandage his wounds. He then turned to Nathan.

"Head inside and resupply yourself. Then let me know when you're ready to begin."

Nathan went inside and made a quick search for anything useful. He found a bandolier and some leather armor for his arms and legs, which fit comfortably over his Vault suit. There were plenty of bullets, especially for his 10mm, and some for a .45 caliber weapon. There was, unfortunately, very little in the way of glue or tape. Nathan emerged from the police station with his bandolier strapped with bullets and more in his duffle bag. Danse was securing the helmet onto his Power Armor suit.

"Paladin?"

"Yes, civilian?"

"Where are we going?"

"ArcJet Systems," was the reply. "A contractor for military and civilian systems. Their Deep Range Transmitter was slated to be part of the Mars Shot Project, but the Great War happened and then the bombs came."

"Are you really going to walk there?"

"Of course. It's the only way."

"What about me? I've only got my feet, and it's a _long_ way."

"I suppose I could let you ride on the back of my Power Armor," Danse resigned. "But if we get into trouble, you'll have to dismount."

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

Nathan would soon come to regret those words. Clinging onto the back of Paladin Danse's armor was the most uncomfortable he had been in a long time. Behind them ran poor Dogmeat as fast as his four legs could carry him. To his good fortune, the road there was only three hours by Power Armor. They came at last to a place somewhere outside Weston around 3:02pm by the clock on Nathan's Pip-Boy. Here he climbed off, very haphazardly, and stumbled onto the ground. Despite Danse's urges to start searching for the ArcJet building, Nathan needed to eat. He hadn't had any food since 6:40 this morning and was hungry. One of the canned foods he had in his duffle bag contained peach slices, which were sweet but tinged with a metallic taste. In addition to this, he drank the boiled water that Codsworth had given him. Not a feast, but it was enough to keep him on his feet for whatever else he needed.

"Are you ready to continue our mission?" Danse asked. "ArcJet is just three hundred feet ahead of us."

"Soon, soon," Nathan assured him. "Just need to catch my breath. That was...something else."

"Unfortunately, we're only a reconnaissance team," Danse returned. "If we had a Vertibird with us, we could be here in minutes."

"A pity."

"Rest while you can," Danse said. "I'll need you in battle-ready condition once we go in there."

"I'll be okay," Nathan said, as he returned the can to his duffle bag, shouldered it once again, and with his 10mm in hand, followed Danse's lead. "Damn, that was a long way out here!"

"If it were up to me, I'd relocate the team out here from the Police Station," Danse stated. "But Scribe Haylen detected some disturbing energy readings in the area that need to be investigated. We don't know what they are, except they're short-lived and their transmissions are broadcasted on a frequency indicating advanced technology. We're concerned that whoever, or whatever, is creating those energy readings could be a potential threat."

"So that's what we're up against?" asked Nathan. "Something...or someone...with advanced technology?"

"Exactly," Danse replied. "Are you ready now? Now, listen up; our primary target is the Deep Range Transmitter. We do this clean and quiet, no heroics and by-the-book: understood?"

"Understood."

"Outstanding. I'll go in first and draw the fire of anyone inside: you cover my rear. And check your fire around me: that fusion core in my Power Armor goes critical and we'll both be in for it."

Danse walked up to the doors of the ArcJet building and, with surprising dexterity for such a bulky armored mass, pushed open the doors with one hand. He then took hold of his laser rifle and went in, with Nathan following on behind him. Just at the door, Dogmeat let out a strained whine. Nathan turned around and petted the dog's head.

"You okay, boy? You need a break?" Dogmeat laid down on the ground like a sphinx. Nathan petted his head. "Stay here. I'll be back for you."

Dogmeat laid down and rested while Nathan followed after Paladin Danse. Despite his heavy suit, he went as quietly as reasonably possible through the dimly-lit factory building. Down a short corridor to the left he went, then right where the upper floor caved in to a room with several empty robot bays. On the floor were the remains of the inhabitants of those bays: Protectrons that looked like more used and worn versions of Robby the Robot.

"It appears as though the facility's automated security has already been dealt with," Danse commented. "Dammit, I was hoping to avoid this."

"What do you mean?" Nathan asked.

"Look around you," Danse instructed. "No spent ammo casings, no bullet holes, no drops of blood. This wasn't raiders or Gunners: this assault could very well have been carried out by synths from the Institute."

"The Institute?" Nathan asked. "What's that?"

"A group of scientists who went underground when the War started," Danse answered. "They've spent the last few decades littering the Commonwealth with their technological nightmares."

"Is that what the synths are?" Nathan asked.

"An abuse of technology created by the Institute," Danse continued, a strong note of disgust in his voice. "Abominations meant to 'improve' upon humanity. It's unacceptable! You see them, you put them down. Let's move."

Danse continued to lead the way, going as quickly and quietly as possible. Nathan followed in his wake, his ears straining to hear anything over the sound of the paladin's heavy boots on the hard tile floors. Periodically, Nathan would find lying amid the ruins a tube of industrial-strength glue or a few items that could be salvaged: aside from his military training, he had his background as an engineer to fall back on. Aside from the tube of glue, he had little time to grab anything more substantial as Danse was outgoing him.

They reached a room that looked like a dead end, when all of a sudden there was a sudden burst of shattering concrete. Danse and Nathan turned to look and saw a new threat, smaller than a deathclaw but just as dangerous. About four of them appeared through a hole that a fifth had broken into the room through the solid concrete wall: they were about human height and size, but they were clearly not human. Plastic face-plates and ceramic armor covered bodies made of metal, wires, and gears. Their eyes glowed yellow in the dim light as they scanned their opponents. In each of their hands was a plastic weapon that sent bursts of light blue light at them.

"Hostiles! Take them down!" Danse shouted.

The paladin drew their fire as he charged towards them, firing with his laser rifle. Red danced with blue, turning the room into a light show in which Nathan could only keep his head down from being blown off and incinerated. Despite the flashes of light, Nathan found that it was easy to differentiate his opponents from Danse. Their skin-plates were white and his Power Armor was dark. Unfortunately, there wasn't much he could do to help Danse: the 10mm tore holes in the machine men's casing, but did little damage to them. One by one, the metal men were defeated, until at last Danse stamped on the body of one and blasted its head in three times with his laser rifle.

"Damn synths!" he snarled as he climbed off its remains. He turned back to Nathan. "You alright?"

Nathan nodded silently, but said nothing. He had never seen anything like these before. Their pale faces were unnerving, frozen in the final moments of concern: it wasn't fear, or at least Nathan didn't believe it was. Their voices, hollow and electronic, rang throughout the fight, coordinating with their companions. They never once showed anything remotely resembling fear.

"It looks like they've come here before us," Danse said. "Probably compromised most of the facility. Let's hope the transmitter is still intact." He then reached down and picked up one of the plastic laser rifles the synths had been wielding.

"An inferior model," he commented. "But better than what you've got. Here, take this with you. You'll need it once more of these freaks show up."

"More?"

"I'm expecting the worst," Danse replied. "Though I'm surprised you kept your head in that fight. Most settlers lose control at the first sight of one synth, and we fought five."

"It's...complicated."

"Understood. We can talk about it later. Right now, we've got to get to the engine core and hope the synths haven't taken the Deep Range Transmitter. Double time!"

Danse clicked something on his helmet and set off a tracking sensor. Following it, he crashed through the concrete wall and, following a pipeline, led Nathan deeper into the facility. Several twists and turns, through another broken wall, up through a collapsed upper story floor, and then down again twice, and through another door. This led to a long, descending corridor with no lights. The Pip-Boy automatically turned on its green running light, and the forward-facing lamp on Danse's helmet shined light two meters ahead of him. At the end of the corridor, they entered upon a wide cylindrical chamber. The sides had steel walk-ways that led up and down, though the higher levels had collapsed. Shining their lights forward, the two of them saw a great single-engine rocket in the middle of the room, suspended on its scaffolding.

"The scribes would have a field day here!" Danse remarked. "This is it; the transmitter should be in the control room at the top, but the power's out. There should be an auxiliary generator near the bottom."

Slowly the two of them made their way down the walk-ways to the bottom of the engine core. Every step of Danse's boots made the steel groan precariously, which set Nathan's teeth on edge. Every moment it seemed as though they would be attacked, for all the noise they were making. What's more is that he recalled barely hearing any noise of the approach of the synths until they crashed through the concrete. If they were preparing an ambush for them down at the bottom, they would be walking blindly into it: both figuratively and literally.

At the bottom of the engine core was a doorway leading to a maintenance chamber. Danse had Nathan check it out while he stood guard. Inside he found a still-running reactor with a fusion core in the battery outlet. Checking the battery, he saw that still had a full U-235 charge. It must have been switched off. A little searching found a computer terminal. Nathan hung his head; yet another computer to try and figure out the password. Unfortunately, every attempt he made proved incorrect and the lock-out began.

"Dammit!" Nathan exclaimed, slamming his palm against the desk on which the terminal sat.

The trap was sprung. Flashes of blue light exploded outside in the launch tube. Danse was surrounded by at least half a dozen of these metal men, all of them armed with laser rifles. Nathan sprung into action, gripping the plastic grip and barrel and aiming at the nearest pale-faced robot. The kick-back from the laser rifle was minimal, but the blue beam did the trick. It struck the head-piece of one of the synths, blasting off part of its face-plate and several bits of wires and mechanical offal: not a kill shot, but a hit nonetheless. He fired again, heedless of the flash, and struck one in the chest. One hit after another, now he had broken through their lines and was fighting back to back with Danse, covering his rear from the synths. The last one fell with a blast from the paladin's laser rifle, and he turned around to Nathan.

"Weren't you supposed to be turning the power on?"

"Got locked out of the terminal."

"Try again. Our only way to get to the transmitter is through the elevators, but they need power."

Nathan ran back to the console and waited another five minutes before the terminal was unlocked. After three tries he stumbled upon the correct password: _MARSJET_. Power hummed through the walls and lights flickered to life or exploded in sparks from their broken sockets. Immediately Nathan and Danse went into the service elevator, clicked the button, and waited as the lift began to ascend.

"You've definitely seen combat before, haven't you?" Danse asked.

"What?"

"Our second fight and not only are you in one piece, you're barely even shaking. You've been in battle before." Nathan nodded, though he knew that he was trembling on the inside.

"Where did you serve?" he asked.

"United States Commonwealth Army, 108th Division."

"108th? That division ceased to be over 200 years ago, when most of the surviving members died from the bombs. That doesn't mean...just how old are you?"

"I'm 30...and then some," he added with a sardonic chuckle. "I was...frozen in a Vault for 200 years. Just woke up yesterday morning."

"Incredible," Danse remarked. "Let me ask you something: did you know that you were being cryogenically frozen?"

"No, it...it all happened so fast. They never told us anything."

"Then you have firsthand knowledge of the unbridled..." The elevator rang and the doors opened. "...we'll finish this later. Weapons live, we've got company!"

No sooner had they exited the top of the elevator when blue laser blasts lanced across the upper level of the engine core. Across from the rocket in the center, the control room was barricaded by another six synths with laser weapons. With Danse in front and Nathan bringing up the rear, they made their way across the steel girder that led to the control room's door. Laser blasts struck the walls behind them, or left black marks on Danse's armor. Once they reached the control room, they went in back to back, firing at anything that moved. Nathan's training came rushing back to him, driven by a shot of adrenaline from deep inside. One synth lost its face-plate and half its head, and still kept on shooting. Another blast from Nathan's laser rifle and its right arm was blown off. With its weapon in its left hand, it charged towards Nathan. A few shots more and it lost one of its legs; but it kept coming after them, crawling with its left arm.

"Shit!" Nathan exclaimed. "I'm out!"

The laser rifle he held had run out of battery life. Using the stock, he struck the rest of the crawling synth's head as hard as he could. It hit something important, and the synth collapsed onto the floor. But the stock was now damaged. Tossing it aside and taking up the robot's own laser rifle, he rejoined the fray.

"I'll draw their fire!" Danse said. "Take them from behind!"

"Enemy attempting flanking maneuver, begin counter..."

The synth's bottom half of its face was blown off by a blast from Nathan as he took aim and fired at it. Danse had subdued two; one with his laser and another by slamming it forcefully with his foot into a computer console. Nathan took out another one with a blast to the chest that made it into a breach in its armor. Danse subdued another one, crippling its legs and getting on top of it to send blasts into its head. The mouth-less one was now trying to attack Danse from behind. Nathan took aim, but then recalled what Danse had said about his Power Armor: one stray blast could damage the fusion core. Then he remembered his Pip-Boy. Clicking on V.A.T.S., he aimed at the machine, ignored the readout, and focused his laser on the green dot. There was a blast of blue light and it collapsed to the ground. Hearing the sound near at hand, Danse did an about-face and saw Nathan with his rifle aimed and the fallen synth.

"Thanks," he nodded curtly. "Now fan out and scan the area for the device."

Nathan nodded in return, then lowered his gun and started searching the remains. "What does it look like?"

"Wish I knew," the paladin replied. "If Scribe Haylen were here, she could give you a full technical readout of what it would look like, and what frequency it transmits on. Try using that Pip-Boy of yours."

Nathan clicked V.A.T.S. off and turned to the radio. He fiddled with the dial a little, a sea of static between Edvard Greig's "In the Hall of the Mountain-King" and the Ink Spots' "Maybe". At last he heard a loud series of beeps coming from somewhere left of the Classical Music channel. Using his Pip-Boy to scan the area, he followed the beeps where they became louder and quicker. At last he came upon the body of the synth that he had blown off most of its limbs and kept charging at him. Turning the machine over, he noticed the chest-piece had a compartment that could open up. Prying it open he found a small square device with several blinking lights on it.

"That's it!" Danse said. "Now, let's take the service elevator and get out of here."

At the far end of the control room was another elevator. With power restored, they had no trouble getting it to work and taking them back up to the top level. However, once they passed through the doors and went outside, things changed immediately.

* * *

The sky above their heads was suddenly filled with clouds: dark clouds that turned the sky a sickly shade of green. Under normal circumstances, this would mean a tornado was on its way. But amid the howling of the wind, Nathan could hear a tell-tale clicking sound from his Pip-Boy. He looked down and noticed that the Geiger counter was slowly rising. In the distance, there was a flash of green lightning that broke the darkness of the gathering storm, and then the roll of thunder.

"What the hell is this?" Nathan asked.

"Rad-storm," was Danse's reply. "We need to get out of this now, or we'll end up sick."

Nathan groaned in frustration, but instead held his hands around his mouth and shouting "Dogmeat!" Very soon the German Shepherd came running over to them.

"Not back the way we came!" Danse returned. "We all won't fit in the elevator. Go back around and head into the lobby!"

The two of them, with Dogmeat following after Nathan, ran back around the ArcJet building and went back up into the main lobby where they had first entered. Danse sealed the door as best he could and made sure any cracks or openings in the walls were plugged. He then breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to Nathan.

"Looks like we're going to be here until the storm lets up," he said. "Might as well get comfortable." He reached around and clicked the manual release on his suit. The man who climbed out of the T-60 was about the same height as Nathan and of similar build. He was clad in a jumpsuit and hood, which he took off and rubbed the sweat from his forehead: Nathan noticed that he also had short dark hair, like himself.

"I tell you," Danse said. "It's a relief, doing this with a civilian who knows what they're doing. But then again, you said you had military experience, didn't you?"

"Yes," was the reply.

"And you've seen firsthand," he continued. "The damage of unchecked science. Vault-Tec Corporation was one of the biggest defense contractors of the United States Commonwealth, back before the war. But things..." He sighed, as he took a seat. "...things weren't always as they seemed."

"Tell me about it," Nathan said, taking a seat opposite him. Dogmeat laid down on the floor at Nathan's heel.

"The Brotherhood made three reconnaissance missions into the Boston Commonwealth. The first one came back with a load of military equipment, technology, and historical records of the old world. We know as much as anyone about the dirty secrets of Vault-Tec. You know most of their Vaults were designed to fail, or specially made for some sort of twisted experiment: as if we didn't have years of progress to give them answers to questions they already knew. All ethical questions were outright dismissed."

Nathan nodded. There was truth in Danse's words: they hadn't been wholly forthcoming about what they were doing to them in the Vaults, to say nothing of being frozen without permission. More and more it seemed that Danse's people, the Brotherhood of Steel, had a valid reason for doing what they were doing.

"You said three groups went into the Boston Commonwealth. What happened to the other ones?"

"The second one was lost, never reported back in. Myself, Rhys, and Halyen are what's left of the third group."

"Tell me about your organization," Nathan replied. "If you're allowed to, that is."

"We were formed from the ashes of the United States military just after the Great War," Danse said. "Beyond that, I'm afraid I can't help you. I'm a soldier, I do my duty. If you wish, Scribe Haylen could give you a history lesson when we get back to the Police Station." He then got to his knees, took his laser rifle, and gave it to Nathan.

"You're pretty good in a fight, but that Institute weapon is an inferior piece of junk," he said. "Take mine: I call her Righteous Authority. It'll keep you alive longer."

"Don't you need it?" Nathan asked.

"I have a spare back at the Police Station," was the answer. "A paladin never goes into battle with only one weapon. You'll need this more than me."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now, I'll be having that transmitter and we'll be done." Nathan handed him the transmitter, which he stowed next to his Power Armor, then slumped down on the floor with his back against the wall.

"So, civilian," Danse continued. "Since we've got no place else to go for the foreseeable future, tell me: what brought you out to the Police Station?"

"I was looking for someone," Nathan replied. "A man killed my wife and kidnapped my son."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Danse said grimly. "Any idea who it might be?"

"Just a vague description, that's all," Nathan returned.

"If it's any consolation," Danse stated. "If we weren't short of manpower, I'd offer to help you. But the safety of my team and our mission have to come first."

"I understand," Nathan sighed.

"Once the storm clears up, I assume you'll be wanting to continue searching for your son, right?"

"Yes."

"I wish I could give you some hope that you'll find him. But, realistically, it's not good. Then again..." He added with a smirk as he noticed Nathan looking glum. "...we had quite a bit thrown at us in there and you pulled through nicely. So anything's possible."

"Thank you."

"For me, the Brotherhood is my family. May not be the folks I was born with, but they have my back and I have theirs. As such, I would like to make you an offer. We're still miles away from any Brotherhood outpost, so I have more or less free reign to act as I wish as long as it doesn't jeopardize my team or our mission. Maybe if you were to join the Brotherhood, I could help you find your son."

Nathan sighed. "I appreciate the offer, but let's be real here. You're just three. More than that, you took me five hours out of my way to locate this piece of junk!" He held up the Deep Range Transmitter as proof, then placed it back down. "Look, I'm...I'm not angry at you, or ungrateful for the gift. I...I'd just hoped we'd be going in a different direction...maybe towards Diamond City..."

"Diamond City?" Danse asked. "Is that where you think your son could be? Apologies that I took you so far out of your way. I can understand your frustration, and..." He sighed. "...even your hesitation to join us. But we don't force outsiders to join us, that's never been our way. We cooperate with them, try to build mutual trust in order to show that we are working for their good." He shook his head.

"Diamond City. Such a shame for those people. Half of the buildings in downtown Boston are still in serviceable condition and they choose to cower in fear inside a stadium."

"A stadium?"

"Before the War, it was known as Fenway Park. Now the locals call it Diamond City, after the shape of the baseball stadium."

Nathan was now more optimistic. He knew where Fenway Park was, and if Diamond City was there, he could find it himself in no time.

"Thanks again."

The storm raged on outside, showing no signs of stopping. Slowly the dusk deepened as night fell upon the Commonwealth. Nathan, who was still on edge from the synth assault, offered to stand guard while Danse took a brief rest, with the promise to wake him up at midnight and go to sleep himself. He ate the last of the canned fruit, but saved the can in his duffle bag: for why, he didn't know. Maybe it could hold more glue if he found any in his travels. At times, he would depart into another room, outside of listening range, and play Nora's holotape. Then he would come back and pace the floor, or check his Pip-Boy. According to the clock, it was 11:28pm, Eastern Standard Time, October 24th 2287. He chuckled softly: he had escaped from the Vault 210 years to the day of his entry.

Thirty-two minutes later, he woke Danse and had him watch while he slept. After a little search, he found the least uncomfortable spot in the lobby and, using his duffle bag for a pillow, fell fast asleep. Dogmeat walked softly over to him and rested obediently at his side. The last sound Nathan heard before falling asleep was the gentle breathing of the dog.

* * *

**(AN: I just realized, while double-checking maps of the Boston area, that the Brotherhood of Steel mission takes you WAY out of your way just for the transmitter. Since I'm factoring distance into this story, that would make things go extremely slowly and I'm already feeling the weight of each chapter. So I kind of cheated and had Danse carry Nathan. Unfortunately that still means he gets benighted in Boston by next chapter.)**

**(One thing I hope to reconcile in this story is the difference between the Brotherhood of Steel from _Fallout 3_ and how they're portrayed in 4. I'm having some ideas, but if any of you have any suggestions, I would be welcome to considering them. I for one thought it was very cheap and manipulative, the way Bethesda tried to turn them into generic 40s-Germany bad-guys [the way they did aesthetically with the Empire in _Skyrim_: as if they needed any more bad press] when, in the last game, they were the noble good guys "fighting the good fight" [hint hint].)**


	4. The Story of the Century

**(AN: If you know the quest names from Fallout 4, then you know precisely what's going to happen in this "little" chapter! I had initially planned it to be chapter 3, but found that meeting Danse became too tedious and over-drawn to be just a few paragraphs before this, so I split them up. I know, that dragged the story out [I don't even like when stories spend too much time before the main plot kicks in: it's one of the many reasons I can't read any other high fantasy novel besides Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit], but it was less burden on me, which means more chapters for you.)**

**(If you were wondering about Nathan's "obsession" with Nora's holotape, don't worry. It's important.)**

* * *

**The Story of the Century**

Morning at the ArcJet Systems factory. Danse woke Nathan from his sleep around 5am. They had a long day of walking today to get them back to the Cambridge Police Station. For breakfast there was nothing but a box of Fancy Lad snack-cakes Dogmeat found jammed in the Nuka-Cola machine in the lobby. Hardly nutritious at all, but there wasn't much choice in the matter. Nathan hoped to find better food in his journey, especially once he reached Diamond City. Danse, seeing Nathan's predicament, shared with him some of his Brotherhood-issued First Strike field rations: a pocket sandwich, half a hunk of bread, and some cheese spread. Nathan accepted this graciously: he had eaten rations like this, and worse, during his time in Alaska, and he knew that these could keep a man on his feet for a while. Dogmeat's big brown eyes looked quite sad at the lack of food for him, and Nathan sympathetically patted his head.

"Don't worry, boy. I'll find you something."

Once they had eaten, Danse suited back up, Nathan shouldered his duffle bag, and the two of them headed outside to see if the coast was clear. The storm had abated some time last night, and there wasn't a thing in sight: only the yellow glare of the sun rising up out of the Atlantic far away. They had plenty of time ahead of them to go as far as they needed to go. The plan was to go as far as the southern side of the University Bridge, after which Danse would go north back to the Police Station and Nathan would go south and east, towards Diamond City.

From ArcJet, they made a southeasterly beeline towards the Massachusetts Turnpike. Though Danse stated that they should stay to the northern side of the overpass and not get entangled with anyone or thing upon it. According to his intelligence, the Gunners were in great force on the Turnpike, and their weaponry was - reading between the lines of disparaging remarks about 'mercenary scum' - on a level close to that of the Brotherhood. In any case, Danse was not prepared to tangle with them, nor was Nathan, and so they both avoided them.

Several hours after they had left ArcJet, they crossed the western branch of the Charles River at a shallow point and came into a residential area filled with rundown houses very similar to Sanctuary. Wild dogs, hairless and feral, roamed these streets, and would try to attack them. It was all that Nathan could do to keep Dogmeat from lunging at them and getting into fights. A few laser blasts shot over their heads, or at the bolder ones, sent them running with their naked tails between their legs. As they went, they came upon a grocery store and searched for anything Nathan could salvage. Most of the food was gone - a product of the many 'free government-issued programs' before the War - but there was a pack of Salisbury steak and two cans of dog food. Dogmeat was jubilant at this discovery, wagging his tail and hovering eagerly around Nathan as he tried to open the can with his screw-driver. Once it was open, he devoured it hungrily and licked up the insides of the can; needless to say, nothing was left for later.

Once they left the supermarket, there came a hail of gunfire from the Turnpike. Not at them, but the sound set them on edge. Danse said that it must be the Gunners, and decided to leave following the Turnpike and head northeast.

"We can cut across these ruined suburbs," he said. "And approach the northern arm of the Charles River. Then we can follow it along to the University Bridge."

Nathan agreed with the idea, and so they set off northeast, away from the gunfire from the Turnpike. Minutes passed one after the other, and soon they were come upon a place where had once been a forest set aside for the conservation of Dolan Pond. But now the trees were mostly gone, and only a few stumps or scraggly, leaf-less giants remained.

"What could have done this?" Nathan asked. "Was this the bombs?"

"Possibly," Danse replied. "There's areas of high radiation on both sides of the Charles River the closer you get to Boston. But this was someone else."

Near Dolan Pond, they found the answer. The area before it had been cleared, and small shacks were set up here and there. Nestled in the midst of the shacks was a man-made hill, into which a door with a still-glowing light could be seen. At the entrance of the door was a crude sign, upon which was written 'Vault 81.'

"Another Vault!" Nathan exclaimed. Into his mind came the wild thought that, maybe, he could find other survivors. This was quickly dissipated by what Danse had told him last night. Likely any inhabitants had long since died off, the hapless guinea pigs of Vault-Tec's twisted experiments.

"There's the answer to your question," Danse said. "Vault-Tec."

"Do you suppose there's anyone else inside?" Nathan asked.

"Likely we won't find anyone in there," came the reply. "Or if not, they'll be insane. They still tell ghost stories of Vault 108 back in the Capital Wasteland."

But Nathan was still intrigued about this Vault. The lights were still on. Perhaps someone was inside? Perhaps they could give him some help with his search for Shaun. At the very least, there might still be some supplies he could use for his own search.

"I'm coming back for you," he said.

"You can put a marker on your Pip-Boy's map to remind you of its location," Danse commented.

Nathan took a look at his Pip-Boy and opened up the map. A single tap of his finger on the screen would set a tiny beacon that pulsed at regular intervals. He put it on the area near Dolan Pond, then let his left arm hang down at his side.

"Let's go," he said.

* * *

From Vault 81 they continued northeast until they came to the banks of the Charles River. Now they passed alongside the southern banks, following it until they saw the Turnpike run alongside it. They moved now into its shadows, hoping to evade watchful eyes on top by walking underneath it. This was much easier said than done, for at odd intervals there would be a collapsed portion of highway that would leave them open as they tried to find a way around it. The river continued to snake this way and that, until it turned about northward. Here Danse led them down towards the Turnpike. Accordingly, there were fewer Gunners on this side of the Turnpike, at least until one went east of Diamond City.

Through the streets of the city of Boston they were now passing. Many of the buildings were dilapidated, long since fallen into disrepair. Others, aside from a few collapsed floors, were still standing and, as Danse had said, could be used to house people. Nathan was now focused on getting to the University Bridge and continuing on with his own mission. It was about 10:38 in the morning when they at last got sight of the Boston University Bridge. Here Danse turned to Nathan to bid his farewells.

"Thank you for taking me this far," Nathan said. "You really didn't have to."

"We were going the same way," Danse returned. "For your helping the Brotherhood, a simple escort would be acceptable. Godspeed, civilian. If you ever find yourself back in the Cambridge area, I'd be honored to have you with us. Perhaps you'll reconsider my offer."

"Thanks, Danse," he replied. "I appreciate it. And call me Nathan."

"_Ad Victoriam_, Nathan," Danse said, speaking a Latin phrase which Nathan was sure Nora would know the proper translation for. Before departing, he knelt down in his armor and gave the dog a pat on the head. "Take care of him for me, boy." Dogmeat licked the metal glove of Danse's Power Armor, which made the hardened soldier chuckle fondly. He then rose to his feet and began looking this way and that for the nearest access to the University Bridge.

Nathan then went on his way, trying to recall the way to Fenway Park. It had been so long since he had gone to a baseball game. As he went this way and that, his thoughts drifted back to Sanctuary Hills 210 years ago. He had bought Shaun a baseball glove for when he grew up: nothing more American than baseball. It brought a smile to his face, but also disappointment. Strange what seemed so important so long ago was now only a memory. But he tried not to think about it overmuch. He had to focus on his main task.

It took him twenty-one minutes to arrive at his destination, winding his way through eerily bare streets, keeping his eyes peeled for raiders, feral ghouls, or anything else. As he made his way down Mountfort Street, which would lead him directly there, he heard gunfire resounding from the east. Hurrying as fast as he could, with Dogmeat following on at his side, tongue wagging and an eager look in his brown eyes, they ran until Mountfort turned into Maitland. Nathan then decided to take a shortcut through a parking lot that would put him directly in front of Fenway Park. As he went there, he suddenly saw himself standing before a wall made of junk, like the ones at Sanctuary. There was a gate in that wall, over which hung a sign made of wooden boards upon which was painted the words: _Welcome to Diamond City_.

Just beyond he could hear the sounds of gunfire, and loud, guttural voices shouting challenges. With Righteous Authority in hand, he followed the sounds until he came to the far-side of the parking lot, just before the intersection of David Oritz Drive, Brookline Avenue, and Jersey Street. Here he saw several men wearing armor made out of junk - what appeared to be football pads and helmets - wielding rifles, shotguns, and pipe weapons similar to those of the raiders he had fought in Concord. They were engaging several large creatures, about eight feet tall; these were hairless mountains of muscle covered in green skin and armor made from scrap metal and other pieces of junk. The exchange carried on for several minutes, with neither side showing any sign of relenting. Upon the junk walls were sentry turrets, which turned to fire automatic gunfire at the monsters.

The monsters, on the other hand, seemed to soak up the bullets from the "football guards". Whether they hurt them or not Nathan couldn't tell, but they made them angrier and fight harder. He knew that he had to intervene on their behalf. Turning on V.A.T.S., he scanned the monsters: species unknown, significant gamma radiation damage, traces of F.E.V., greater-than-normal physical strength and endurance. Nathan took aim at one of the monsters, who had nothing upon itself but scraps of clothing around its loins, and fired the laser rifle at the green dot. Righteous Authority had a substantial recoil, but Nathan gritted his teeth and fired again. This time the blast struck the monster fell from the second-story where it had been fighting.

"Brother!" roared one of the other monsters. "You die, stupid human!"

The monsters now had their attention on Nathan. Running behind cars for cover, he sent up another few blasts and burned off the arm of another one. The "football guards" concentrated their fire on the wounded one, sending it slumping down to the floor. The last one roared and beat its armored chest, but now it was heavily outnumbered. Bullets and laser-fire all focused on it, and slowly it was burned down until it collapsed in a twitching heap and moved no more. One of the "football guards" approached Nathan and addressed him in a Bostonian accent.

"Thanks for the help, pal," he said. "Couldn't'a done it without ya."

"My pleasure," Nathan replied, as he switched off V.A.T.S. "What were those things?"

"Supa mutants," he returned. "Nasty bastards. Good thing they didn't have any mini-nukes wit'em. Knew a fella who saw one o'them take outta whole caravan wit one'o'dem. Anyhow, welcome to Diamond City. Just follow the signs on inside. Oh, and don't cause any trouble. Wouldn't wanna have t' put you down or lock you up inna Pipa Suite."

Nathan and Dogmeat made their way from the site of the attack and started looking around for signs. True to the guard's word, there were signs which directed him down towards Jersey Street. He continued on his way, looking this way and that, hoping that more of these super mutants wouldn't try anything again. Seeing yet another monstrosity of the post-apocalyptic world was almost too much for one morning. Yet they didn't try anything. At last, following the signs, he came toward the front entrance of the stadium, where the turnstiles and ticket booths were situated. There was a great steel gate, controlled by a hydraulic arm, covering the entrance of the stadium. Nearby he saw a figure standing in front of an intercom, having a very animated argument with someone on the other end. As Nathan approached, he started to see a few more details about this figure.

It was a woman. He could tell that from her voice, the shoulder-length black hair rushing down from beneath her press-cap, and the curvature of her hips hidden beneath her red leather jacket. He couldn't see her face, but periodically she would make wide gestures with her arms and her voice would raise in pitch or let out a frustrated growl.

"What do you mean you can't open the gate?" she demanded of the intercom. "Stop playing around, Danny. I'm standing out in the open here, for cryin' out loud!"

"I got orders not to let you in, Miss Piper," came a very wearied voice on the other end of the intercom. "I'm sorry, I'm just doing my job." The woman leaped back in exaggerated surprise, her arms flailing up as she did.

"Oooh, just doing your job?" she squealed. "Protecting Diamond City means keeping me out, is that it?" She chuckled and lunged at the intercom. "Oh, look! It's the scary reporter! Boo!"

"I'm sorry," the exhausted Danny replied. "But Mayor McDonough's really steamed, Piper. He's sayin' that article you wrote was all lies. The whole city's in a tizzy." Still no response. The woman let out a frustrated groan.

"You open this gate right now, Danny Sullivan!" she demanded in a quick, assertive voice. "I _live_ here, you can't just...lock me out!" She let out a frustrated sigh, then in a voice that was even more assertive, starting out slow and measured before breaking into a harsh demand, she said: "Open. This. Gate. _Right now!_ I can wait all day, Danny, you _know_ I can. Open up!" She let out another frustrating sigh, then turned around to the newcomer.

It was then that Nathan froze, his mouth hanging open. It wasn't the finger-less gloves she was wearing, or her green scarf, or the fact that she wore pants. It was the face. Apart from her eyes, which were brown instead of blue, she looked so much like Nora that Nathan forgot to draw breath. But then she spoke and the illusion was broken: she clearly wasn't Nora. Her voice had been sweeter than honey and smoother than oil, the voice of a woman: whereas this woman's voice had a hint of childlike impishness to it. His thoughts were briefly disrupted by the young woman asking him a question.

"Hey, you!" she whispered. "You want into Diamond City, right?"

"Uh, what?" he stammered.

"Shh! Play along!" she shushed. Taking a step back, she turned back to the intercom and started speaking in a louder voice as if holding a conversation with someone else who wasn't there. "What's that? Quincy? Wow, that's far away, and not an easy trip...wait, how much? God, that would keep the general store stocked for a month! Too bad they aren't letting us in. I'd hate to be the one to have to tell Crazy Myrna about how much she could have made buying supplies from you..."

"Geez, alright!" exclaimed a thoroughly exacerbated Danny from the other end of the console. "No need to make it personal, Piper. Give me a moment."

The sound of the hydraulic arm sounded and the great green door began to move upward, showing the empty concessions and ticket booths beyond the turnstile. The young woman turned to Nathan, a clever smile on her face.

"It worked! Come on, let's head inside before ol'Danny catches onto the bluff."

"What is this place?"

"The 'great green jewel?'" the woman replied. "She's a sight, isn't she? Everyone who's anyone in the Commonwealth is from here, settled here, or...got kicked outta here." She gestured with both of her thumbs at herself. "A big wall, some power, working plumbing, schools, and some security goons make Diamond City the big monster that she is, heh. Love it or hate it, you'll see for yourself soon enough. Let's go."

"You first," Nathan replied.

The young woman made a face, then turned about and went on through the turnstile. For a moment Nathan couldn't stop looking at her backside; even in that coat, which went down almost to her knees, he could still make out the shape of her rear end. But his thoughts were disrupted by a short, mustached man, roughly middle-aged, with a substantial gut. He wore a light brown suit, a faded red tie, and a trilby that matched his suit. As soon as he saw the young woman, his mustache curled, his face contorted into rage, and his hands flexed as he waved them about at her face in fists and accusatory fingers.

"Piper! You devious, rabble-rousing slanderer! Who let you back inside? I told Sullivan to keep that gate shut! The nerve! The...the level of dishonesty in that paper of yours! I'll have that printer scrapped for parts!"

"Ooh, is that a statement, Mr. McDonough?" she returned, gesticulating as she spoke. "'Tyrant mayor shuts down the press?'" She turned to Nathan. "Why don't we ask the newcomer? You support the news? 'Cuz the mayor's threatening to throw free speech in the dumpster!"

"What paper?"

"Mine! Publick Occurrences," the woman whom the mayor called Piper replied. "We're the hard look at the truth. Are you with us or not?"

"Well, now, I've always believed in freedom of the press..." At this moment, the rotund mayor cleared his throat loudly and turned to Nathan. He was now smiling, albeit uneasily, at him.

"Oh, I don't mean to bring you into this argument, good sir. No, no no, you look like Diamond City material." He then opened his arms widely. "Welcome to the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth! Safe...and happy." Nathan noticed he gave a venomous sideways glance at the young woman Piper, before turning back to him with a smile on his face. "A fine place to come, spend your money, or settle down. Don't let this muckraker here tell you otherwise, alright?"

"What's this about?" Nathan asked.

"What do you think?" Piper returned, her teeth clenched as she spoke. "Print lies and everybody's happy, but if you print the truth..."

The mayor cleared his throat and lowered his arms. "Now then, was there anything in particular you came to our city for, good sir?"

"I'm trying to find someone," Nathan replied. "My son Shaun...he's less than a year old."

"Wait, your son's missing?" Piper interjected, a hint of concern in her voice which seemed uncharacteristically altruistic of her, given Nathan's first impression. She then turned back to the mayor, a stern, inquisitive look on her face. "Oh, you hear that, McDonough? What's Diamond City Security going to do to help this man, huh? This isn't the first missing person's report to come through here, and now we've got an _infant_ who's been taken?" It was rather impressive, Nathan thought, how she could talk so quickly and so clearly.

Once again, the Mayor cleared his throat, dismissed her inquiries, and turned back to Nathan. "Don't listen to her, I'm...I'm sure we'll be able to help you. While our security team can't follow every case that comes through, I'm confident that you'll find help here. Diamond City has every conceivable service known to man. One of our great citizens can surely find the time to help you."

"Well, one would think that the mayor of so great a city would know everyone," Nathan returned. "Or at least someone who could help me with this problem."

"Oh, I'm sorry," the mayor stammered. "I won't be taking any more questions. I'm a busy man, after all. Please, excuse me. Enjoy your stay in Diamond City."

"This is ridiculous!" Piper interjected. "Diamond City Security can't spare _one_ officer to help?" She took a step closer to him, a discerning gleam in her brown eyes. "I want the truth, McDonough. What's the _real_ reason Security never investig..."

"I've had enough of this, Piper!" the mayor retorted, dropping his friendly demeanor in the face of the plucky young reporter. "From now on, consider you and that little sister of yours on notice!" He turned around and made his way into the stadium.

"Yeah, keep talkin', McDonough, that's all your good for!" Piper called after him. He gave only a dismissive 'hrmph' and then disappeared. She turned back to Nathan, a cheeky grin on her face. "Ooh, a big Diamond City welcome from the mayor. You feel honored yet?" She then lowered her gaze, and then looked back up, biting her lower lip.

"Look, I gotta go get settled in, but...uh...stop by my office later. I have an idea for an article you'd be perfect for." She gave him a smile, then made her way into the stadium after the mayor. Nathan was stunned for a good long while: if he had been hypnotized by her hips, that smile had caused his heart to melt. He didn't think that anyone else could make him lose himself like that ever again. A whimper at his side caught his attention and he snapped out of his haze. Looking down, he saw Dogmeat looking up at him quizzically.

"Don't give me that look," he returned. "It's just an interview, that's all. And I'm not..." He realized that his voice was reverberating louder than he liked, and lowered it to a whisper. "...I'm not going to her right away. Need to see if I can find some food and supplies first." Dogmeat rubbed his nose against Nathan's knee. "Come on, I just...just met her. She's..." He trailed off, then suddenly remembered that his mouth was gaping open. "It's not betrayal! It's...it's not." He then took his duffle bag down, placed Righteous Authority inside it, and headed on after them into the stadium.

* * *

Inside he saw what remained of Fenway Stadium. The entire baseball field had been converted into a shanty town of sorts, with shacks lining every square inch of space and narrow alleys in between them. At the pitcher's mound there had been erected a sort of open-air market with a ring of shops outside and some on the inside. Looking up towards the stands, Nathan saw houses built there as well. There seemed to be very little in the way of free space here in what was now Diamond City. He made his way forward, down toward the home plate: to his amazement, the base was still there and two narrow streets, boarded over with pallets and boards, went in a straight line toward the first and third bases.

As he walked down the stairs from the entrance towards the home plate, he saw Piper speaking to a young girl in a large winter jacket who was standing on a wooden box. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but as soon as they had finished, Piper looked this way and that and ducked into a nearby shack. Nathan noticed the sign posted on the top of the building: _Publick Occurrences_. He walked over to the door and, remembering his manners, knocked on it. There was a sound of something heavy hitting the door from the other side and Piper exclaiming: "You're not throwing me out again, dammit!"

"Piper, it's me!" Nathan said.

"Oh! Sorry about that! Come on in."

Nathan opened the door and walked into the little shack, with Dogmeat stepping in silently after him. It seemed to be quite the mess. In one corner there was an old printing machine that seemed to be held together by tape and a random assortment of scavenged parts. There was an upper level accessed by a little ladder, but not much for head-room up there. Inside what could be considered "the main room" (though there really was only one room) there was a lantern sitting on what used to be a washer machine, a lamp hanging from the ceiling, an ice box to one side (Nathan wondered if it even had power to run), and a wooden pallet over the bare floor; upon the pallet was a ratty old couch toward which Piper gestured for him to sit. He took his seat and the dog cozened up next to his feet on the floor.

"Glad you dropped by," she said. "You holdin' up, Blue?"

"Blue? Why are you calling me that?"

"'Cuz of the blue Vault-suit you're wearing? Kind of a dead-give away." Piper then reached into an inner pocket of her red jacket and pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil, then turned back to Nathan. "So, here's the deal: I want an interview, your life's story in print. I think it's time Diamond City had a little outside perspective of the Commonwealth. You do that, and...uh...I'll tell you what: I'll come with you, watch your back while you get used to the world above ground."

Nathan's eyes widened with surprise at her eagerness to pack up with a complete stranger. He started to wonder if her intentions were less than honorable. "Well, just a minute now. What sort of interview are we talking about?"

"Really simple," Piper replied, seemingly oblivious to the implications he had noticed. "I ask who you are, get your opinion on life out there, and...maybe load up a few tough questions to keep it interesting. What do you say?"

Nathan was relieved that her intentions weren't as he thought. He knew in his heart that he wasn't over the death of Nora: it may have been two hundred years, but for him, it felt as though it were only two days ago. As for the interview, he was curious. Beyond Diamond City, he had no other leads except to "ask around" for help. Maybe if he got his story out in public, someone might give him the help he needed.

"Alright, Piper, I'm in."

"Good," she smiled, taking her pencil in hand and pacing the floor as she made a few notes on it. "Now, let's get down to business. So, I know you're from a Vault; how would you describe your time on the inside?"

Nathan's eyes drifted from Piper to the floor, but not towards Dogmeat's comforting glance. She had opened with one of the hardest questions he thought she could ask. He didn't want to have to relive this all over again: it was still too recent and real for him.

"Why does it matter?"

"It's a perspective piece, Blue," Piper replied. "People in Diamond City need to know you're from a different world than them. So, what was the Vault like?"

He sighed, and then tried to turn his mind back to that day and what brief details he remembered. But there was so little to think of. The bomb had just been dropped, towards Framingham he believed, and he had to be strong for Nora and Shaun. Even when they were safely inside, his mind hadn't been on anything in particular as he changed out of his old clothes into the blue jumpsuit he was now wearing.

"I didn't really spend much time in the Vault," he slowly said. "My family and I were...frozen."

"Wait, what? They put you in an ice-box the whole time? Are..." She looked up from her notepad with awe in her brown eyes as she took a brand new look at Nathan.

"Are you saying you were alive before the War? That you saw everything before it was blasted all to hell?"

"Yes," Nathan replied. "I guess...that makes me...240 years old."

She gasped in amazement. "Oh my god! The Man of out Time!" She quickly scribbled down the phrase, then turned back to Nathan. "So, you've seen some of the Commonwealth, not to mention Diamond City. How does it compare to your old life?"

He sighed in frustration. This was not going the way he had expected. "Can you even compare the two? The world out there is nothing like the one I left."

"Feeling a little homesick, are we?" she asked. "Can't say I blame you. Now, I already know you're looking for your son, Shaun. Do you suspect the Institute was involved in the kidnapping?"

"What?" Nathan asked. "The Institute? I thought they were a group of scientists. Why would they kidnap my son?"

"That, Blue, is the biggest mystery in the Commonwealth," Piper said. Here she halted in her pacing and turned directly to face him. "No one really knows who the Institute is, where they are, or what their motivations are; but their handiwork is all over. They send their synths out to do their dirty work for them. Sometimes they even replace a person with a synth double: a little covert agent no one would ever suspect. Before Nat and I moved to Diamond City, there was a big incident with one of the Institute synths: now everyone here is afraid of them." She breathed a sigh, as if trying to rain in her enthusiasm.

"Now, not everything that goes wrong has the Institute behind it, but there's always a chance. That's why I'm asking."

Now things were getting down to brass tax. But unfortunately, Nathan had no idea how to answer her. After all, he was still trying to block out what had happened. Seeing Nora get shot through the head only fifteen feet away from him was still rattling around in his mind and sapping his will. Still, he tried to think about the other figures. Chief among them was the man: bald-headed, scruffy-looking, dressed in a ragged black jacket and junk armor, and that pistol. But there was the woman as well: she was wearing some kind of hazmat suit, or at least it looked like one. Could it be...

"Maybe..." was all that he muttered.

"Not even a baby is safe from them," Piper commented, sniffing back tears. "And people wonder why I can't just look the other way." She cleared her throat, then continued pacing, writing notes on her pad. Nathan turned to her: he hadn't given a clear answer, so why had she acted as though he had?

"Okay, Blue, we're almost done here," she said. "For the last part of our interview, I'd like to do something different. I want you to make a statement to Diamond City directly. The threat of kidnapping is all but ignored in the Commonwealth. Everyone wants to pretend it just doesn't happen. So what would you..."

"Wait, people just ignore kidnappings out here?"

"Yeah, Blue, haven't you noticed?" She paused again from her writing, once more enthusiastically gesturing with her hands. "You grow up in the Commonwealth and eventually someone is going to get taken; maybe not someone you know, but someone. And people just say, 'Well, could have been worse. Could've been killed by raider attacks, or super mutants, or feral ghouls.' They just give up!" She let out a frustrated sigh and kicked the small stack of concrete bricks that separated the main room from the printing machine, then turned back to Nathan, trying to compose herself.

"So I want my readers to know what keeps you going. What would _you_ say to someone who's lost a loved one but might be too scared or too numb to the world to look for them? Maybe it'll give them some hope, a little bit of inspiration. Now, what would you like to say?"

Nathan sighed. Hope. That was all he had at this moment. It was that hope alone, the hope that he could find Shaun, that kept him going. It was that hope that made him believe a crazy old druggie and her lucid dreams about Diamond City. He wondered if any of the people that had also lost loved ones were in his situation: desperately hoping to find them again, clinging on to any possible hope that they could still be alive...or at least...no, he didn't want to believe that. It couldn't be true. Shaun _had_ to be alive.

"You can't give up hope," he said, slowly as he looked at the ground. "No matter how hard it looks, or how tired you get. You've got to just...believe that you'll see them again..." His voice caught. "...or at least, that you'll know the truth."

"Wow," Piper muttered. "A strong note to end on, Blue. Thanks." She slid the pad and pencil into an outer pocket of her jacket, then walked over to the wall and opened a gym locker that was sitting in the side of the room.

"That's everything," she said over her shoulder. "It's gonna take some time to put this all together, but I think your story is going to give Diamond City plenty to talk about." She turned about, and in her hand was a 10mm handgun. Nathan suddenly took attention at the firearm, but there was no need for worry. Her finger wasn't on the trigger and she immediately deposited it into the inner left pocket of her jacket. She then fished for a small box of 10mm bullets and added these to her jacket as well.

"So, I said I'd come with you, right? Watch your back?" she asked.

"Are you sure you want to go with me?" Nathan asked. "I mean, we just met and what about your paper?"

"The paper can wait, I guess," Piper replied. "Besides, I can't wait to see how this story turns out. I could even point you to someone who might be able to help you find your son."

"Really?" Nathan exclaimed, loud enough to wake Dogmeat, who had been sleeping on the floor this whole time. "Who? Where is he?"

"Our very own detective," she replied. "Name's Nick Valentine. Tracks down missing persons for a small fee, but he's on the level. Maybe we can pay him a visit?"

"Sure, where is he?"

"Come on, I'll show you."

* * *

**(AN: This chapter was going to be longer, but I decided to keep it focused just on the meeting with Piper. One thing I found particularly poignant in Oxhorn's character review of Piper was that he was very critical of her journalist skills, accusing her of "yellow journalism". I made a hint of that where Nathan gives an ambiguous answer about the Institute and she takes it as an affirmative.)**

**(He is still driven, but stay tuned because the plot is about to thicken in the next chapter.)**


	5. Productive Grief

**(AN: ****Like with _The Dragonborn and the Lioness_, some things will happen in a way that is more or less time-sensitive. This will fuel Nathan's inner frustration, and may lead to some more explosive things later on. Originally the main quest was going to be derailed immediately following this chapter, but I made an executive decision not to do that just yet, since eventually that happens just the same at some point. That, of course, necessitated a change of the title of this chapter [which was originally going to be "Two if By Land", a pun on the Longfellow poem about Paul Revere.)  
**

**(Also, and I want to make this perfectly clear, there was no mistake made with the reference in the last chapter. Sure, a clever person may be able to divine potential spoilers from that reveal, but I don't want anyone getting on my case about that: as Gimli said in _Lord of the Rings_, "It was deliberate!")**

* * *

**Productive Grief**

Piper led Nathan out of _Publick Occurrences_ and into the pitcher's mound marketplace. As they went, she pointed out each of the folks in their shops and what they sold. She seemed to have lived here for some time and was on a first name basis with most of the folks around here. Unfortunately they gave her foul looks and refused to open up to her as they went. Sometimes she would tip her press cap until it almost covered her eyes, or take it off and hide her face behind it until the person in question - usually one of the "football guards", Diamond City Security - passed them by. Despite the discomfort of such proceedings, Piper was able to point out most of the whos-whos of the market.

On the outer ring of the market were most of the names she pointed out. Doc Sun handled medical procedures, particularly in the way of healing and treating radiation sickness. His was one of the few places in the Commonwealth where Radaway could be procured: a semi-addictive solution that could effectively cure the short-term effects of gamma radiation. To hear Piper describe it, though, was quite unpleasant; aside from the nausea, stomach aches, and headaches, one could usually experience glowing green diarrhea and urine as the chemical purged radioactive material from the body.

"It definitely works, but it's usually best to keep away from radiation, if you can," she noted.

In the basement of Doc Sun's lab was the Facial Reconstruction services of Doc Crocker. Piper hadn't gone, but she heard that they could, for the right amount of caps, give you a brand new look. Next was the Diamond City Surplus, where most people did their shopping. The owner was a paranoid Asian woman named Myrna - the "Crazy Myrna" Piper had mentioned - who wouldn't sell to anyone she suspected of being a synth. Aside from this, she had decent fare to sell, which Nathan made a point of going back to see. After the surplus shop was the Commonwealth Weaponry, a guns and ammunition store run by Arturo Rodriguez. Directly adjacent to his weapon stand was a stocky fellow in his 50s wearing a baseball jersey selling bats, which he called "swatters" in as loud a voice as he could usher from his bristly mustache. On the final side was the clothier and after that the hair salon. In the center of the market was the Power Noodles stand, run by a Protectron with a chef's hat atop its domed head; this was where most people ate.

Piper then led Nathan back across the market square towards the direction of second base. When they arrived there, she turned left and led them towards a series of shacks that lined the alley from first to second. A little down this alley, there was a neon sign with a heart and the words '_Valentine Detective Agency_' written inside it. Nathan was pleased with Piper, despite her probing questions a few minutes ago: she was actually keeping true to her word. They walked in and found a young woman sitting at a desk, looking over some documents in rather dirty folders.

Nathan cleared his throat. "Excuse me, miss?"

"Hmm, what can I do for you?" she asked.

"I'm here to see Nick Valentine."

"He stepped out yesterday, working on a case," she replied. "He's sure to be back tomorrow, though. Nicky's real good at what he does."

"Thanks, Ellie," Piper said, then stayed behind as Nathan stepped back outside. She seemed to be talking to the girl named Ellie about something in hushed tones, which Nathan couldn't quite hear. Instead he turned back around to Dogmeat. The dog gave him a quizzical look and cocked his head to one side.

"Yeah, boy?" he asked. "What do you think?" Dogmeat nodded. Piper then came back out, a rather disappointed look on her face.

"What's wrong, Piper?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing, Blue. I just wanted to clear some things up."

"So is that it? There's nothing we can do?"

"At least until Nick gets back, unfortunately," she sighed. "I know, that's not the answer you want to hear. But, trust me: Nick's really good at what he does. He'll be back tomorrow and he'll help you find your son."

Nathan sighed. "Thanks, Piper."

"Sure thing. So, what sort of trouble should we get ourselves into, huh? Wanna head on over to the Dugout Inn?"

For a while, Nathan was lost in thought. The realization of the delay was properly setting in: who now knew where Shaun could be? Yet he had to be delayed: there wasn't any other option. He was getting angry and sad, and longed to put the holotape back into his Pip-Boy and hear Nora's voice again. A hand with a finger-less glove passed before his face.

"Hellooo, Earth to Blue," Piper said. "You there?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Uh, what's the Dugout Inn?"

"It's the only place little folk like us can get a decent drink," she returned. "And, of course, you can get a room for yourself there to wait until Nick gets back tomorrow."

"Lead the way, then," Nathan sighed.

* * *

The Dugout Inn was built into the third base dugout, quite a way across from Valentine's office. Inside it was dimly lit, with a bar on the far side and two balding men talking about something or other behind it. It was mostly empty, as it was still morning and most folks were busy working, though a few people lurked about on business, eating late breakfasts; a young woman was sweeping up the floor in one corner, she likely worked here. Piper led Nathan up to the bar and hailed down one of the balding men.

"Vadim!" she called. "Get my friend here something to drink. On me."

"Right away, _volynshchik_," replied the man with a thick Russian accent.

Nathan took a seat at the bar while Vadim prepared his drink. While he worked, he continued talking to the other balding man. From what Nathan perceived, these two were related: they both spoke with the same accent and they both looked similar. By and by the talk continued, until Vadim turned to Piper and asked for the caps. She presented them to him and he slid a drink over to where Nathan sat. He took a whiff of it and realized it was alcohol: part of him wanted to drink it, just for the hell of it. After all, here he was, in the middle of an irradiated hell of a world, and had to wait a whole night before he could hope to begin the search for his son. He downed the drink and winced through the burn.

"Hey, you," Vadim interjected, speaking to Nathan. "I have question for you: you heard Diamond City Radio, _da_?"

"Uh...yes?" he replied quizzically. He didn't speak a word of Russian.

"Then you know how much the DJ sucks," Vadim stated.

"Oh, here we go again!" exclaimed the other balding man, rolling his eyes.

"_Bud' spokoyen_, Yefim!" Vadim snapped at the other man, then turned back to Nathan. "Like I said; it sucks. Makes you want to cut your own ears off. DJ Travis is disaster! We need to do something, _seychas_! We will have customers shooting themselves before long!"

"Vadim..."

"Don't listen to my brother," Vadim dismissed. "It's true. Someone needs to 'get rid' of Travis. We need a new DJ for the radio, da? I don't think anyone would mind if he...you know, disappeared?"

"What?" Nathan exclaimed. This was getting a little too far. _Safe my ass_, he thought. Was this a common occurrence of the post-War world? "Are you...isn't that a little too much?"

"Yeah, Vadim!" Piper interjected, equally surprised. "Honestly, what the hell's gotten into you?"

"I tell you, it would be easier than you think," Vadim continued, hardly bothered by their qualms. "You just have to talk him into following you out of town."

"Alright, that's enough!" the other one interjected. His brother scowled and said something in Russian as the second one, Yefim, made his way behind the bar and spoke to Nathan. "Please, forgive my brother Vadim. He isn't serious; he doesn't really want to kill Travis."

"Oh, so he's just saying that for a laugh, then?" Nathan quipped.

Vadim laughed. "_Da_, it's true. Only joke. Travis is good friend; Yefim and I worry about him."

"Poor Travis," Yefim remarked; he seemed the more down-to-earth of the two. "He means well, but he doesn't really have the confidence he needs for the job...or anything else, really. So he's always awkward. He doesn't believe in himself, you see? He expects he'll fail at everything and so he does."

At this Nathan perked up his head. This seemed to speak to him personally. While he hadn't had nearly as much trouble with self-confidence as this Travis, he certainly had his moments. He recalled himself, some two hundred ten years ago (plus a day), staring into the mirror on his bathroom wall, rehearsing his speech. Once more Nora came into his mind: she would know exactly what words to tell Travis to get him to feel better about himself. It always worked for him. But now she was gone, and...

"That'd be quite a challenge," he muttered.

"_Nyet_, it's easy," Vadim interjected. "I tell brother over and over." He then dismissed Yefim and confided in Nathan his 'plan' to bring Travis a fair amount of confidence. He said that he wanted to have Travis win a fist-fight, which he claimed would boost his self-confidence. Apparently Vadim knew some people, he would not say how he knew them or from where, but he said that he could invite them over to help. Nathan was unsure of this plan, but conceded to it: after all, he had gotten over his own issues of self-confidence by knocking the block off a blond-haired blue-eyed kid named Jerry who had been giving him trouble back when he himself was young.

He wasn't Nora, and had to help in the best way that he knew how.

After agreeing to Vadim's plan, there was nothing more to do but wait. The bartender told Nathan that he could get hold of his friends within a few hours, and have Travis down here by 6: still some seven hours later. More waiting, but at least now he had something to busy himself with today. He promised to come back and pay for a room after his business with Travis was completed.

* * *

From the Dugout Inn, he went to Diamond City Surplus to sell what he could and gain a few caps. Piper was with him and whispered advice into his ears on how to get the best deals for his trade-ins. He hadn't found too much in the ArcJet Systems, and reminded himself to keep an eye out for useful things outside of Diamond City. He left "Crazy" Myrna with twenty caps to his name. Now he had a measure of "total freedom" where all he had on him was time. For this, he decided to help the folk of Diamond City if they needed anything. Piper and Dogmeat followed after him, watching and keeping company. The first place he went was the one place, for the present, where there were fewer eyes glaring at Piper: the right part of the outfield.

Whether by rain, a weak point in the foundation, or a broken water-main, the right-field had become a shallow lake about six feet deep at its deepest point. Present in the pool was a water purifier run by a little bald boy named Sheng Kawolski. The young man seemed to be in a bit of trouble as Nathan approached: apparently there was some problem with the water being polluted. The boy was being talked down to by one of Diamond City Security, and yet he seemed to be holding his own against the man nearly twice his height. After the guard left, glaring at Piper as he went, Nathan approached Sheng and asked him for work. The young man told him about the cleaning problem, which Nathan agreed to help with.

Unfortunately this meant having to wade through the water, and possibly even swim. Nathan was long out of practice, and he only had his underwear beneath his Vault-suit. He gave a shrug and started peeling off his jump-suit: it clung to his skin as he removed it, having been a part of himself for over two hundred years. Piper, meanwhile, was gazing at his body from behind, biting her bottom lip and her eyes wide open with surprise and delight.

"You...uh...you sure it's safe to swim in there?" she asked him, her eyes going down to his rear end as his jump-suit passed over his hips.

"Don't see a reason why not," Nathan replied. "Unless you know of one."

"Uh...well, I...I don't think it's that bad...uh...I hope..." she returned, blushing as he turned back around to her. He then turned about to wade into the water and she looked after him. Half an hour passed and Nathan came up from the water back to Sheng: Piper's eyes were fixated on his chest, a few hairs in the middle of his breast but otherwise hairless and well-sculpted. Then her eyes drifted to what looked like a skull in his hand. The pumps were cleaned and now Nathan wanted an explanation for the skull from the little kid. He was not pleased with the explanation of someone coming across a live grenade; and Piper was not altogether pleased seeing Nathan's dripping wet body get zipped back up into his Vault-suit.

After Sheng, Nathan continued looking for work around Diamond City, while Piper excused herself for a few hours. She said that she had to do some paperwork and ask questions around Diamond City. She hoped that things were quieting down and that folks would be up for talking. While she was away, Nathan busied himself with his work. Primarily he helped with things that had broken down, using his engineering skills where they were most useful. The people of Diamond City were hesitant at first, but slowly word began to pass around about a helpful Vault-dweller, going around helping the people of the city. As for Nathan, he found himself viewed with less suspicion and more like a helpful stranger: a welcome oddity, but still an outsider. Apart from that, he found that his own sorrow was fading and he thought less and less about Nora and the pain of his loss. It irked him, for it felt dishonest, replacing his world and sole driving force with something else. Still, there was something pleasant about putting himself into a productive state, where he could help folks without any burdens upon his own heart.

* * *

The day wore on, and the shadows of the shacks in Diamond City slanted eastward, mirroring the setting of the sun. Around five fifty on the Pip-Boy, Nathan was seated at a bench outside the Dugout Inn. It had been a hard day of work, and he now had another twenty caps to his name. Now he had only the task of helping Vadim and Travis, after which he would sleep at the inn and then begin again his quest. Dogmeat was at his feet, laying down on his stomach: he had been more of a hindrance than a help today, sticking his whole head underneath Nathan's arms while he was working, and licking his face when he tried to tell him off. Now they were both resting, and waiting for the time appointed. At that moment Piper appeared, a paper to-go box in her hands and bringing noodles up to her mouth with a pair of chopsticks.

"Hey there, Blue," she said. "Finished up the latest edition of _Publick Occurrences_. There's a free copy for you tomorrow."

"Thanks," he replied. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I came to see the outcome of this little incident," she returned. "I wonder if this little stunt will be able to give Travis some confidence."

Nathan sighed, his thoughts drifting back to Nora and what she would say to comfort the DJ. His hand went instinctively to his Pip-Boy: he had been without viewing the holo-tape practically all day. It had been too personal to play in front of Paladin Danse, and he was so busy afterward that he hadn't had his fix. He stopped; there was no time for that. Instead he got himself onto his feet and made his way into the Dugout Inn, with Piper and Dogmeat following on behind.

Inside the Dugout Inn, he saw two ill-favored and ill-intending men standing by one of the couches, mocking and bullying another man who appeared to be wearing a letter-man jacket. The fellow on the couch was a wisp of a man, with his head down and his face twisted in abject sorrow. Nathan cast a glance over to Vadim behind the bar, who gestures to the man at the couch: true to what he feared, this dejected looking featherweight was Travis.

He swallowed hard, cracked his knuckles, and walked over to the man at the couch. The two thugs stepped aside at the newcomer, but continued throwing pieces of garbage at the young man and laughing as he kept his head down and refused to retort or defend himself. The young man didn't seem to notice his approach, so Nathan cleared his throat. He looked up, a dejected look on his face, and, assuming the newcomer wanted him to move, started to get up.

"You don't have to leave," Nathan said.

"I, uh...no, i-i-i-it's fine," stammered the young man. "I just, uh...I like it better. Uh, over there." The thugs started mimicking Travis and continued throwing trash at him.

"Hey, is something wrong?"

"N-No, nothing's wrong, I guess," he continued. "I don't..." Something which looked like a baseball came flying over and hit Travis on the back. He let out a whimper and cowered. "I have no idea what I did to deserve this! I...just wish they'd leave me alone!"

"Then why not do something about it?"

"I...uh," Travis stammered. "Uh, look, I...appreciate it, but I..._really_ don't want things to...well, I-I-I you know...end badly? I..." Another piece of junk sailed over Travis' head and struck the wall in front of him. He leaned down and turned to Nathan. "I mean, have you _seen_ those guys over there? It...it could turn violent!"

"Don't you want this to stop?"

"I...I do..." Travis stammered. "But I...I..."

"Come on, Travis," Piper interjected. "You don't want to live like that, do you?"

"Well...no..."

"Then let's do something, right here, right now," Nathan replied. "Don't worry, I've got your back."

"We're right behind you," Piper added with a smirk.

Travis turned to the newcomers, a glimmer of hope in his fear-stricken face. Just then a fruit that looked vaguely familiar to a half-gone tomato came flying through the air and hit him on the back. Travis turned to Nathan, who gave him a furtive glance. At this Travis rose up from the couch and let out a strained cry of: "That's enough!"

Some of those who were still in the Dugout Inn peeked up from their drinks to watch what was happening. The two men now rose from their table, menacing looks on their faces as they twisted their knuckles in their hands and beat their fists together.

"What did you say, ass-wipe?" the closest one challenged.

Travis blanched and turned around as if he would run. Nathan rose up and placed himself between Travis and the door. There was now no way of escape. He gave him the look again, and Travis slowly turned around, a look of fear on his face as he wrung his hands together.

"I said...th-that's enough!" he returned. "Leave me alone."

"'I said that's enough! Weave me awone!'" mocked the one in the rear, and let out a laugh that exposed most of the teeth missing from his gaping mouth.

"Little punk ass bitch," the first one returned. "I think you said, 'More, give me more.'"

"Leave me alone!" Travis shouted again, his hands moving down to his sides and clenching into fists. "I...I mean it!"

The larger one in the rear continued mocking Travis, while the mean-looking one in front struck his fist into his open hand and took a step forward.

"Yeah? And what the fuck are you gonna do if I don't wanna stop, huh? You gonna piss your pants again?"

"Leave me alone, or..."

"Or what, you little bitch? No, no, I ain't deaf. Or else what, shit-stain?"

"I'll...I'll beat you up!" Travis yelped, trying to sound strong as his fists shivered.

"Oh, boy, Travis," laughed the mean-looking thug. "Biggest mistake of your shit-sucking life." He took a swing at Travis, but suddenly Nathan's hand came up and seized the thug's fist in his own. With a strong thrust, Nathan shoved the thug's fist back into his face and sent him staggering back.

"Well I'll be damned!" the tall one said. "Little Travis got himself a bodyguard!"

"You're dead, asshole!" the mean one roared as he charged at Nathan. He swung wildly, but Nathan blocked the blow and jabbed him on his pock-marked cheek. Now the leather-clad thug was really mean. He swung with a wild left, and just as Nathan's wrist came up to block it, he struck with a right into his left eye. Nathan staggered back, dazed but not beaten.

"Is that it?" he replied, the angry side of him starting to build up. "I've fought bugs who hit harder than you!"

"Kick his ass, Gouger!" the mean one shouted.

The larger man attacked Nathan from the right. He was taller and stronger than the mean-looking one, and could take more of Nathan's blows without being staggered. Indeed, every time Nathan made a strike, he left himself open for Gouger to retaliate with a blow of his own. The tide was quickly turning and Nathan now found himself on the defensive as the larger one, Gouger by name, started whaling away at him. Now he was backed against a wall and Gouger laid his hands upon him, seizing him in a choke-hold and turning him around for his companion to hit his unprotected front-side.

"Not so tough now, are you, soldier-boy?" the mean one sneered as he began his attack.

"Hey!" Piper interjected, coming to Nathan's aid. "Let go of him." She tried to pull the mean-looking one off, but got a fist in the face. "Oh, now I'm mad!" The mean-looking thug swept Piper's legs out from under her, sending her rear-first onto the floor. He let out another guffawing chuckle and turned back to face the bloodied fool who had dared stand up to him.

_Wham!_ At that moment, a wild fist struck him right on the jaw; he staggered backwards, seeing stars for a solid minute. To the surprise of anyone watching, the one who had thrown the blow was none other than Travis. He stood frozen in place, his fist still clenched, a wild expression on his face.

"Bull!" Gouger cried out to his fellow.

But Nathan hadn't been idle. A well-placed stomp to Gouger's foot sent him hobbling back; following up, he thrust his right elbow in an arc, breaking Gouger's nose. He fell back, sobbing as blood began to pour from his nose. By now Gouger had recovered, but wasn't looking at Nathan or Piper: instead he was looking towards the bar.

"He broke my nose, Bull!" wept Gouger.

"Shut the fuck up, you big bitch!" Bull retorted. "Do I look like your fucking mama?" He turned towards Vadim, a threatening finger pointed at the Russian bartender. "You crossed the line, rusky. This ain't what we signed up for! You're dead, do you hear me? Dead!"

"Bah! _Preodolet' eto uzhe_," Vadim laughed, waving his hand at the two thugs dismissively.

"Bull, I ain't gonna die, am I?"

"Get your shit together, you're embarrassing me!"

"But I'm bleedin', Bull!"

"Come on, Gouge, let's blow this joint," Bull replied, trying to sound cool and more collected than his fellow. He led him out of the Dugout Inn, all the while slashing his throat with his hand and glaring threateningly at Vadim.

Once they left, Nathan turned his attention to Piper, giving her a hand to help her off the floor. She was sporting a bruise on her right cheek, and her rear was sore when it hit the ground, but she was otherwise fine. Nathan, on the other hand, was looking rather worse for wear: his lip and left eyelid were busted open and he was bleeding. He turned then to Travis, who was gasping and shaking all over.

"Hey, buddy," Nathan said. "You alright?"

"That...was...amazing!" Travis exclaimed. "I...I can't believe it. They...we...I hit him and they...they ran! You were right!"

Nathan smiled ruefully: his face hurt when he attempted it. "Good to hear."

"Yeah, yeah," Travis replied, then let out a whooping yell as he finally registered the pain of striking Bull's face as hard as he did: the surge of adrenaline had kept it under wraps all this time. "I...I have things I have to go to do now. I...thanks a lot!" He then went on his way. Nathan, meanwhile, hobbled over to the bar, where Vadim was punching the air, imitating the fight.

"I am thinking that went well," he said.

"Well, Vadim?" Piper asked. "You're crazier than usual."

"Ah, you're both still alive, _da_? So it's _nyet_ problem." He turned to Nathan and handed him a few caps and a bottle of Bobrov's Moonshine: it was still cold.

"What's this for?"

"For helping with problem," Vadim said. "You want help with second part of my foolproof plan, there'll be more caps for you, huh?"

"And the bottle of moonshine?" Piper asked.

"It's for his face."

Nathan sighed. "Look, I appreciate the offer, but I'm gonna be heading out of town tomorrow. Right now, all I want is a room to rest what's left of the day away." He groaned as he pressed the cold glass of the bottle against his face. "Maybe if I'm back in town, I'll see about helping you."

"Whatever you say."

* * *

**(AN: A few things about this chapter. First, you get to see Nathan's sarcastic side starting to show itself: it will become more and more apparent the more fed up he gets with the world. Second, I made some reference to my initial plan to start this story from the prologue [to set it apart from _The Dragonborn and the Lioness_, which also began "in media res": it gives Nathan some desire to help Travis.)**

**(Third, I did cut Vadim's humorous line-flubbing. It seemed absurd to keep, since it reminded me of a rather infamous moment in _Oblivion_ where female elves remark on the Thieves Guild end-quest where you rob the Arcane University, Imperial Legion Compound, and the Temple of the Nine all on the same night and then say "wait a minute, let me do that one again." Can't quite give it a rational explanation, so it got the chop. Fourth is about Sheng Kowalski: despite being possibly Chinese/Polish, he reminds me of Elmer Fudd. If you kill Travis and Sheng becomes the Diamond City DJ, he will even go "uhhh" like Elmer Fudd. And fifth, when I heard Piper ask to see a Grognak comic "for research purposes", I started wondering what she does when Nat's asleep [redacted!].)  
**

**(I was going to have Nathan make a racy remark to the two thugs during the "Confidence Man" scene, if only to reflect his own character flaws and how the pre-War era was, but decided against it in the end. I think "impatience" isn't good enough for a character flaw, though.)**


	6. A Cat-Like Bird

**(AN: So the world went to hell in a hand-basket since I started working on that last chapter. I am still alive and well, just fighting the general disinterest in everything that's been with me since ever: it took my arch enemy releasing a garbage album just to get me motivated to do music again! I don't even want to play anything! So I decided to force myself to do a little writing instead.)**

**(This chapter is going to see the main story continue, now that we have a few caps in Nathan's pocket [or duffle bag])**

* * *

**A Cat-Like Bird**

After paying Yefim the ten caps for the room, Nathan went there to hold the cold bottle to his face as his head swam. Dogmeat, who was nosing around outside during the fight, was now at his side, a surprised look on his face. Piper stayed with him for an hour, and brought him a Nuka-Cola to place on his face when the moonshine lost its chill.

"What do you did back there for Travis," she said. "That was...really something."

"No, I messed up," Nathan replied. "I could have done something else. Nora..."

"Who's Nora?"

Nathan was amazed that he had just spoken her name out-loud: in Piper's presence. What was strange about that? In theory, nothing. Yet there seemed to be something inside him that squirmed with discomfort at the thought of bringing up his dead wife around Piper right now. After all, they had only just recently met and for him, it was still too near: no matter how many years passed between her death and now, it all seemed like just two days ago.

"Nevermind," he said, shaking his head. Piper cocked an eyebrow, curious about what she had just been denied.

"If you say so, Blue," she replied. "I mean, I know you said you had a son, so..."

"I said never mind," he repeated. "It's...it's too personal to talk about right now."

"Geez, alright," she returned. "Still, I'm proud of you for what you did for Travis."

"Thanks," he sighed. "So, tomorrow when this Nick Valentine gets back and we start searching for my son; are you with me?"

"Sure thing, Blue. It'd be a cold day in hell before ol' Piper misses out on front row seats to the story of the century."

He smiled, and winced as he did. He then turned to Dogmeat, who licked his knee. Nathan smiled and took that as good as a yes. As the hour grew long, Piper said goodnight, with the promise to see him early tomorrow morning to visit Valentine's. Nathan fell asleep on the old, springy mattress to the sound of the jukebox from the bar playing Danny Kaye and the Andrews Sisters song "Civilization."

* * *

It was six o'clock in the morning when he finally woke up for good. The last night had been filled with dreams, most of them involving that moment in the Vault when everything changed. Nathan found Piper waiting for him at the bar of the Dugout Inn. There was something unsettling about this in Nathan's mind. Not in any case Piper's demeanor, or her sly grin, or her brown eyes, but how eagerly she sought him out. Maybe things were different here in the 23rd century, but back in his day women didn't seek out men so eagerly: at least, respectable women didn't. Into his mind came again the furtive glances of the people of Diamond City that they cast in Piper's direction.

She led him first to the Power Noodles stand for breakfast. While they walked, she told him that most of the food in cans or in sealed packages was irradiated, so cooked food was better overall. Nathan gave his caps to the Protectron server, whom Piper named as Takahashi but who said nothing more than "_Nan-ni shimasko-ha?_"; despite its limited vocabulary, it gave him and Piper their food. They ate quickly, for Nathan was more determined than ever to finish what he had started and find his son. He barely had time to enjoy his meal, his military instincts kicking in to minimize down-time spent before returning to Valentine's. Indeed, he had finished so soon that Piper was still in the midst of her noodles by the time he was done and, with Dogmeat in tow, went looking for the place they had stopped by yesterday. She hopped along after him, slurping noodles and keeping her eyes and ears peeled.

The door was open, and as soon as they passed in, the young woman looked up in worried eagerness at the newcomers. Her face fell when she saw them.

"I...I'm sorry," she said. "We're closed."

"What's wrong, Ellie?" Piper asked from over Nathan's shoulder.

"Nick's missing!" the woman Ellie exclaimed.

"Gone?" Nathan asked, his temper starting to rise. It was just like this irradiated hell of a world: first his wife was dead, now his son was kidnapped, and then after waiting an agonizing two days, the one who was supposed to help him find Shaun was also missing. "You're serious?"

"Dead serious, I'm afraid," Ellie cringed.

"Son of a bitch!" Nathan swore, and kicked the tin wall of the office shack.

"Hey, cool your jets, Blue," Piper soothed. "I know we're in a tough spot right now, but maybe we could go looking for him?"

Nathan took a deep breath and mastered himself. He then turned back to Ellie. "Sorry, miss. Can you help us find him?"

"Uh, I don't know," she replied. "Last time I saw Nick, he went to the old Park Street Station, tracking some girl who'd been kidnapped by Skinny Malone's gang. I hear there's an old Vault down there they use for a base. I told him not to go; said he was walking into a trap! But he just smiled, said he'd be back by today, and walked out the door: like he always does." She sighed.

"And who's Skinny Malone?"

"Some cat out of Goodneighbor," said Ellie. "And all I know is that means he's in the well-pressed suits and machine guns school of thuggery." Piper laughed in the middle of a bite-full of noodles, and they slurped out of her mouth in a strange coughing noise. Nathan turned around to her and Piper, in her embarrassment, held her hand up to cover her mouth; her eyes were almost double their normal size. Nathan smiled, his mood improving at her comical appearance; Piper blushed at being in that state, and wished that she was a hundred miles away from here. But that smile, that damned smile...

"Park Street Station..." mused Nathan, turning back to the secretary. "That's northeast of here, right? About two miles?"

"Yes, that's right," Ellie nodded, a hopeful look in her eyes. "Nick should be easy to spot: he's always wearing that old hat and trench coat get-up. Please, hurry!"

With that, Nathan turned to Piper, who had composed herself and had put down her noodles and taken up her pencil and paper, muttering something about Skinny Malone and what his 'angle' could be in the great disappearance of Nick Valentine. Nathan cleared his throat and she looked up at him.

"So we heading out?" she asked.

"Are you sure you wanna go with me?" Nathan asked.

"I said I'd watch your back, didn't I?" she replied. "Besides, if you're heading northeast, you'll need back-up. Folks say it gets dangerous the farther away from Old Boston you go, but the city's just as bad; you'll need more than just a dog." At this, Dogmeat, who was waiting patiently behind them both, whined and looked up at her with wide, sorrowful eyes. "Aww, don't look at me that way, boy. You're good, the best around here; but unless those paws can shoot a gun, he's gonna need me too." Dogmeat rubbed his nuzzle against Nathan's leg.

"Nora used to say the pen is mightier than the sword," Nathan commented.

"I like that!" Piper replied with a keen grin.

"But we can't be facing the Commonwealth with just pencil and paper," Nathan replied.

"Of course not," Piper said, and pulled back her red jacket just enough to reveal the N99 10mm pistol in her belt. Closing her jacket, she popped her pencil and paper back into the confines of her jacket, took out a stick of gum which she tossed into her mouth and began to chew. She then turned to Nathan, a grin on her face, and said:

"You ready, Blue?"

* * *

The walk from Diamond City to Park Street Station was only a forty minute walk. Compared to the road from Sanctuary Hills, it was nothing. At his right hand walked Piper, her 10mm in her hand as she kept her eyes peeled, looking this way and that for anyone who might pose a threat to them; and at Nathan's left hand walked Dogmeat, his tongue wagging as he panted happily. As for Nathan himself, he had Danse's Righteous Authority in his hands while he kept his eyes to the roads, keeping watch for any that might assail them while trying to recall what he knew of the streets of Boston of old.

These memories were of little use to him, for the city had changed over the course of two hundred years. Buildings many stories high had collapsed into tangled ruins of brick, sand, and steel, their offal spilling out in wide swaths into the streets. Old fusion cars sat abandoned in the streets, some of them so rusted that all indication of their original color had been lost. Street signs and billboards had been torn apart, or painted with crude graffiti; the most vulgar ones came from the raiders or Gunner mercenaries, while the more blunt and horrifying ones were from other sources.

"It might be a good idea to avoid the overpasses," Piper had said. "That's Gunner territory, and you do _not_ wanna be messing with them."

The path which Nathan had chosen for them took them down followed Boylston Street. The freeway passed on eastward, while their road continued northeast. It was his plan to follow this for most of the journey, then cut across the Boston Commons to the Park Street Station on the northeastern corner thereof. A straightforward plan, and so far there seemed to be no resistance. But the eerie silence and deathlike calm was more than enough to set both of them on edge.

"It feels like we're walking into a trap," Piper commented. Dogmeat made no sound.

As if to make things worse, the sky above them started to grow dark. Gray-green clouds floated up from the southwest, threatening to blanket the city of Boston in another storm of gamma radiation. It was now glowering over them, shutting off the light of the sun and filling the ruin of that proud American city with the sickly pallor of death.

"Are we almost there, Blue?" Piper asked. "We're gonna have a lot less hair and a lot more limbs if we stay out in this storm." She laughed. "I'm amazed you can find your way in this mess."

"I know my way around," Nathan replied. "I still recognize some sights, but..." He sighed. "...so much has changed. It's so strange, seeing names and streets I used to know like the back of my hand, now completely unrecognizable."

"I like that one," Piper smirked. "I'm gonna make a note of it. Hopefully in someplace safe from all this radiation!"

"If you find us a place to hunker down in," Nathan said. "Lead the way."

True to form, the buildings around them had collapsed roofs and offered no great protection. But they were now come to the edge of the Boston Commons, and Nathan's mind was on getting to the other side. Before him he could see the trees of the Commons: brown, bare, stunted skeletons with spindly naked fingers scratching the pallid green sky. Yet as he was looking about, he could hear deep heavy footsteps causing the ground to tremble; for a moment he thought of the creature that had attacked Quincy. Piper, on the other hand, wasn't looking very brave at the moment.

"Blue, we gotta get outta here," she said. "Under cover quick!"

"Why?" he asked. "What is it?"

"I think Swan's out and about," she said. "It doesn't make any sense, though. He never leaves his pond during the day."

"Who's Swan?"

"Trust me, you don't wanna know. Let's get under cover before he sees us!"

Despite Piper's warning, Nathan was still determined to get across the Commons to Park Street Station. Keeping to the buildings and not venturing out towards the dead trees of the park, he and Piper followed Boylston Street along the southern borders of the Boston Commons. Suddenly there was a loud clash of thunder and a metallic tang in the air: the storm had broken over Boston. Now Piper was determined to get under cover as quickly as possible; to avoid the storm as much as to avoid Swan. But they were nearing the intersection of Boylston and Tremont Street, which led up the eastern side of the Commons, and none of the buildings on their right were in any suitable condition.

Then Nathan saw a glimpse, momentarily, of something walking in the forest. It was a great thing, in shape roughly similar to the mutants he had seen fighting Diamond City security when he first arrived: but it was much bigger. The hulls of several broken boats were lashed onto its shoulders and left arm, and in its right arm it bore a great anchor as a weapon. It was many times larger than the beast he had seen in Quincy, and he wondered if even Paladin Danse and his power armor could avail against this monstrosity: certainly he couldn't as he was now.

"You know what, you're right," he told her. "Let's find cover."

They took stock of their surroundings. The buildings along the eastern side of Tremont were in better condition than those on the southern side, but they were too close to this monster for Nathan's liking. He wanted to get away from it, and be someplace where it could not find them. To that end, rather than turning north, he turned south and saw a large block of buildings on the eastern side of Tremont Street that were in good condition. Towards this structure Nathan, Piper, and Dogmeat now ran as fast as their legs could carry then, keeping their heads down in fear of the beast.

But as they came near the building, another sound began to fill the air: the sound of gunfire coming from a building that looked to be a dilapidated theater. As they approached it, Piper and Nathan drew their weapons as they walked around to the side of the theater towards the entrance. This opened southward, and had in red letters gratified across the walls the phrase: _THE COMBAT ZONE_. At this, Piper squealed and came to a halt.

"Bad idea, Blue," she said. "I hear that place is crawling with raiders."

"You said we need to get under cover, right?" Nathan asked. "Well, here's as good a place as any. We can sneak in under the cover of their guns."

"But they're raiders, Blue! They'll kill, rape, and rob you as soon as look at you!"

"Would you rather take your chances out here in the storm with Swan? Besides, we have Dogmeat."

Piper grumbled. "Alright, but it's your ass if we get shot. Lead the way."

Through the doors they went, and found themselves inside the theater. Flashes, loud bangs of guns going off, and hoots and hollers were echoing from the main stage, just beyond a pair of double-doors ridden with bullet holes. To the right was a locked room with a barred window and a sign hanging beside its door, with the words "_Rule Breakers_" written thereon. Nathan and Piper looked there and saw two kneeling down with burlap sacks over their heads. They passed by, but kept their guns in their hands. Straight on were the double-doors, with words drawn in chalk above and to the sides: and on one side was a board with the words "_Tommy's Rules_" written on the top, with three short and to-the-point rules written beneath the title. Carefully they passed through the doors, entering the seats of the main hall.

The old Orpheum Theater had seen better days. The balcony had collapsed, and the current occupants had erected their own out of pieces of trash: wood, metal, and other things of low quality. Nathan's engineering eyes saw the shoddy work, even in the dim light of the theater, and tutted to himself, forgetting their peril. It mattered not, for the occupants were still busy firing their weapons in glee. Nathan then turned towards the stage to see what was the cause of all the ruckus.

The stage was ringed with a high fence; within the fence two were battling it out. The one was large, a brutish man with many scars, and the other a slender, pale-skinned woman; she was also bruised and bleeding. Outside was a portly man in a fedora speaking into a microphone stand, giving commentary on the two occupants sparring. A morbid curiosity more than anything else drove Nathan to watch the fight: maybe it was the American spirit, that which always rooted for the underdog, which drove him to watch the woman fighting against someone nearly twice her size. The man was armed with several pieces of sharp scrap metal which were lashed to his left arm, while the woman had a baseball bat. He seemed to be getting her on the 'ropes', so to speak, though there were no ropes. Throwing his size against her, he made her give ground or receive crushing blows from his fists. Sometimes she'd evade the blows, and sometimes she'd take them defiantly, yet she wasn't knocked out even after two heavy blows to the head and chest; she was tougher than she looked. Another blow came and she swung her bat, cracking the knuckles of her opponent.

It was all over after that. She swung to the legs and broke his knee-caps, driving her opponent to his knees. Then with such fury as Nathan had never seen, she threw blow after blow upon him until a bell was rung and the voice of the announcer was heard.

"...and there she is, the undefeated champion of the Combat Zone! Ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it for the one, the only, Cait!" Cheers and gunfire rose up from the crowd. "We'll be right back for the next match. Have a drink, place some bets, take a load off, and no fighting in the auditorium."

"Fuck you, Tommy!" one of the people in the crowd shouted.

"Get this joker outta my theater," the man called Tommy said in the microphone. From out of seemingly nowhere, two large men walked into the audience and made off with the offender. Suddenly Nathan realized that they were in trouble, for the two bouncers were bringing the man here.

"Who the hell are you?" one of them asked, noticing the newcomers.

"Uh, nobody, really!" Piper said, trying to act natural. "Just here to...uh, enjoy the show?"

"Ice the dick," one of the bouncers said. "The little bitch can stay. Bet we could make her squawk."

"Tommy would want him for the ring," the other one said. "Let's cuff 'em and send 'em off to...hey, stop movin' or I'll break yer arm!" The raider in their care was struggling to get free, now that their attention was turned.

"Intruders!" he shouted out as loud as he could.

"Time to start shooting!" Nathan said.

With Righteous Authority, Nathan strafed leftward and sent lines of crimson laser fire into the crowd. They were taken at once in surprise by the blinding flash of the laser blasts, after their eyes were adjusted to the dark theater. Piper got under cover and fired off rounds with her 10mm. The bouncer that had threatened her fell with a bullet in his head, while the other one was now fighting with the raider he had tried to cart off. Nathan managed to fire off a few kills before the crowd became aware that they were under attack and so reached for their weapons. Tommy cowered away from his microphone stand and, fumbling with a key, locked himself inside the cage with the fighting woman, his hands over his head.

The Orpheum Theater indeed became a combat zone, with bullets flying this way and that, punctuated by the blasts of Nathan's laser rifle. But the mean balcony of junk wood that the raiders made served Nathan and Piper as their only defense. For though the bullets of the raiders tore the wood apart, it provided them more cover than nothing; and one by one, the raiders were dropping like flies. Dogmeat clung to Nathan's back, spooked by the gunfire, but ready to attack anyone who tried to take him from behind. Slowly the gunfire started to become less and less intense, and then it was just the throb of the laser capacitor and Piper's 10mm. Then a voice spoke up, thin and fearful: it was the voice of the announcer, the man named Tommy.

"Don't shoot, whoever you are!" he said. "We don't want no trouble...at least, not anymore." There was some indistinct muttering, and then he spoke again. "The hell with that, I'm too pretty to go out like this!"

Nathan slowly rose up from cover, Righteous Authority still in his hands. He could see the two figures in the cage; the woman was standing tall, seemingly unafraid, while the man Tommy was out of sight.

"Clear!" Nathan called out. The firefight had taken him back to his days fighting the Chinese at Anchorage; he had to remind himself that Piper wasn't a soldier and wouldn't know how to answer such calls. "You can come out now."

The two of them made their way slowly out of the bullet-ridden makeshift balcony, with Dogmeat following on behind them, and, passing through the dead bodies, came to the stage. Tommy, seeing that he wasn't going to be targeted by the newcomers, rose up from his place and walked over to the gate which he had closed in his fear. It was then that Nathan had a better look at him under the still-glowing stage-lights. To say that Tommy was human was a great exaggeration: he had ceased to be that several hundred years ago. He looked like he had been skinned alive, and the hideous muscles and raw flesh had been rotted and wrinkled; his nose and eyebrows were gone, and his pupils were so dilated that they looked to be wholly black eyes. Beneath his fedora he wore a wig of brown hair that sat at a rakish angle on his bald head.

It was the first time Nathan had seen a non-feral ghoul in the flesh. He was glad that there was a line of fencing between him and Tommy: he reminded him too much of the things he had seen at the Cambridge Police Station. Even his movements, fluid and dexterous, and his language, thick Bostonian accent, seemed a mockery of humanity coming from him. Particularly he stood out in stark contrast to the woman inside the cage with him.

She was obviously human, given her pale skin - albeit bruised and blooded - and flaming red hair that clung in bedraggled locks on her sweat-drenched forehead: not to mention her green eyes. But there was something icy about her, a coldness that intrigued Nathan. Not at all like the warmth of Nora or the child-like mischievousness of Piper. Her face and her mood were unreadable, save when she spoke: her accent was twinged with the brogue of the Irish.

"Is it over?" he asked then. "Thank God. That could have been a hell of a lot worse!"

"I dunno," the fighter said. "Seemed quite the performance from where I was standin'."

"Are you fucking hi...oh wait, stupid question, of _course_ you are!" Tommy berated, speaking to the fighter beside him.

"I still won the fight, didn't I?" she returned, ignoring the strangers for the moment.

"You're gettin' sloppy, strung out on that crap," said Tommy. He then heaved a heavy sigh as his eyes fell on the body of one of the dead raiders. "I guess we don't gotta worry about that now, do we? This jackass just put us outta business!" He turned his black beady eyes towards Nathan, who liked him even less than before.

"I don't know if I should kiss your ass for not shootin' me," he said to Nathan. "Or have my little bird here feed you your own entrails."

"I'm not your fucking bird, Tommy! Didn't I tell you to quit callin' me that?"

"What is this place?" Nathan asked.

Tommy spared them a brief explanation. The Combat Zone was a fighting arena that used to serve the folks of Boston; a rest-stop and entertainment on the long road through the streets of the Boston Commonwealth. Cait, the woman who was with him, was an undisputed champion of the ring: one hundred straight wins. Two years ago, raiders took over the place and it became their hostage and serviced them and them alone. Despite all the trouble their new clientele put them through, Tommy was still surly about their deaths.

"They may not have been the, uh, friendliest idiots 'round here," he said. "But keeping them entertained kept the lights on."

"T'hell with 'em!" Cait dismissed. "More'll come. Just let me rest up and I'll be good to go."

"Rest up, huh?" Tommy asked. "What, so you can slam more of that crap into your arms? Fuck that noi..." He then paused, a look of realization in his dark eyes; he pointed towards Nathan with one of his gangrenous fingers. "You know what, this was a blessin' in disguise. Hey pal: you caught that last bout. Whaddya think of Cait's work?"

"Well, she can hold her own in a fight," Nathan said. "She's got talent."

"More than hold me own," said Cait; but her sour expression changed to a wiry smile. She then gave Tommy a shove. "Least somebody knows good skill when they see it."

"It ain't your fightin' skills I'm concerned with!" he retorted, pushing her away, then turned back to Nathan. "Look here, pal. Thanks to you, I got no audience; no audience means no caps. And no caps means Cait's a liability. So why don't ye do me a favor and take over her contract?"

"What?" Nathan and Piper asked one after the other.

"What the hell, Tommy?" Cait asked.

"Look, you'd be doin' me a favor," Tommy said. "I gotta get this place put back in order. If she goes with you, she can watch your back. Like you said, she can hold her own in a fight."

"And why are you trying to get rid of her?" Nathan asked.

"Yeah, Tommy," Cait chimed in. "Just why the hell _are_ ye tryin' t' get ridda me?"

"You know perfectly well why, little bird," said Tommy, turning to Cait. "That junk's makin' you careless, and I ain't gonna be the one doin' color commentary when your pretty ass hits the floor." He turned back to Nathan and made his offer.

"What does Cait think about this?"

"Yeah, don't I get a say in this?" she asked, mirroring his thoughts.

"That ain't the way a contract works," said Tommy. "Besides, you really wanna stay here? No audience, no caps, no one else to talk to but me?"

"Jeez, point taken," Cait groaned. "But what the hell are ye gonna do without me here?"

"You don't need to worry about me no more. I'll get this place straightened up right." He turned back to Nathan. "I'll even sweeten the deal for ye, buddy. A hundred caps for your troubles: call it an exterminator's fee for gettin' rid of those raiders. So, what do ya say?"

Nathan turned to Piper, who gave him a noncommittal shrug. Dogmeat said nothing, but looked curiously at Cait; she frowned at him but made no other sound. It seemed that the final decision would be with him and him alone. While he certainly liked having more than one person with him, having so many women around was something...unusual for him. As a young man, he had had mostly male friends, and the 108th Infantry had been mostly men as well. Aside from his mother, a teacher or two from grade school, the neighbors at Sanctuary Hills and of course Nora, there hadn't been that many women in his life. That wasn't to say that he didn't want Cait traveling with them: she could certainly hold her own in a fight. Or perhaps it was the leather corset she wore, slightly more brown than the red of her hair.

"Alright, she can come with us," he said.

Tommy removed a key from his suit and unlocked the door of the cage. He then turned to Cait and gestured with his head that she should go out first. She looked crossly at him, but he remained resolute.

"Go on, get outta here," he said. "You ain't wanted here no more, little bird."

"Just like that?" she replied. "Sell me off like a slave? You're a real son of a bitch!"

"Now now, it ain't like that," Tommy replied. "If you was a slave, _I'd_ be the one gettin' money for losin' ya."

Cait walked out of the cage and went to get her things, while Tommy followed her out of the cage and went to bring Nathan his caps. As they waited, Nathan and Piper searched the bodies of the slain raiders. Most of them bore the pipe weapons, whose weak .38 bullets wouldn't do them much good in a fire-fight. Some of them also bore melee weapons: baseball bats, pole cues, machetes wrapped in barbed wire, or simply tire irons. On one of them Nathan found something he became almost giddy over: a .45 combat rifle, like the ones used during the War. He knew all about these weapons, for he had often fixed his own and repaired those of the other soldiers of the 108th. It found a place in his dufflebag, alongside the few supplies he had brought with him from Sanctuary, ArcJet, and Diamond City.

Tommy arrived shortly with a bag of bottle-caps: the hundred fee he had promised. Shortly thereafter there came Cait out to meet them: her bare arms were covered in the same leather and junk armor that the raiders used, a bandolier full of shells was bound about her hips, and she had on her back a shotgun along with the bat she still held in her hands. She looked as savage as any one of the raiders Nathan had met in the small time he had been in the Commonwealth.

Dogmeat approached her, a friendly look in his brown eyes. She made a face at him and stepped back, but said no words. Piper grinned but also kept quiet.

"We ready to head out?" Cait asked Nathan.

* * *

**(AN: So here we are, back again, folks! And we introduced our second Rose Leslie lookalike. I might have a full...ish team of companions in the Sole Survivor's entourage, with three notable exceptions [absolutely no Porter Gage; the other two might veer into spoiler territory]. Now that I've finished _Servant of Darkness_ and have some time to go before I start planning _The Fall of Angmar_ and something else [it's gonna be big], I have more time to dedicate to this story.)**

**(So it turns out that I made a mistake with Piper's eye-color twice over: when I introduced her I said that she had brown eyes, whereas the game says that she has "hazel green" eyes. As if to further the confusion, the one I had in mind for her [Krysten Ritter] also has eyes that are somewhere between blue-green and brown. Maybe I'll address this later on in the story, but it came up here particularly in the first part of the chapter.)**


	7. The Robot Sleuth

**(AN: Would you look at that? More chapter updates! The end of the world must be...oh, never mind then! That joke has probably been done to death, and it's far too on-the-nose, given that this is a _Fallout_ story.)**

**(Two things about this chapter: one is that I distinctly had Nathan describe Valentine as similar to Humphrey Bogart in his voice and mannerisms, which I thought was a nice touch of the hat to the "early 20th century retro" feel of the _Fallout_ universe. The second is that a big, slightly dumb, character by the name of Malone brought to my mind a certain accountant from Scranton New York [one who makes a mean chili, according to rumors].)**

* * *

**The Robot Sleuth**

They made their way back to the doors of the Combat Zone and peered outside. The storm was still going on outside, and they closed the doors behind them. Piper kicked a piece of junk on the floor, while Cait went around to the door with the two bound raiders. She reached into her mess of red hair and pulled out a bobby pin, with which she began trying to pick the lock of the door. Nathan grinned as he watched her work, and Piper, teasingly, walked over to his side and muttered:

"Like what you see, Blue?"

Nathan gasped, then cleared his throat. "I was impressed by her lockpicking."

"Uh-huh, sure," Piper said, not believing his excuse.

"I mean it!" Nathan returned. "Nora knew a similar trick like that. She showed it to me years ago."

"You'll have to show me this trick, then," Piper replied, biting her lower lip in a smile.

"Oi!" Cait spoke up. "I can here ye two, ye know...ah, fuck!" In her frustration, she pressed too sharply on her pin and it snapped. She took the pieces out of the keyhole, then retrieved another one from her hair and went to work again.

"What's in there that you want?" Nathan asked.

"Those two jack-offs," Cait said. "They've probably got a few caps between 'em. After I knock their heads about with me bat, they'll be willin' t' cough 'em up."

"You're going to _rob_ them?" Piper exclaimed incredulously.

"Why not?" Cait returned. "D'ye think they'd hesitate to rob ye if ye were tied up and they weren't?"

"Still, I think Piper has a point," Nathan interjected. "Perhaps we should just leave them be."

"Suit yerself," Cait grumbled, as the pins snapped beneath her fingers. "But ye owe me some bobby pins fer this...and a good stiff drink!" With that, she left the door and began pacing the floor while they waited. Nathan and Piper sat down with Dogmeat against one wall, while Nathan played around with his Pip-boy. The radio signal was coming in, and a little diddy by Sheldon Allman came crooning over the speaker. By the time the song ended with one last triumphant "Why don't you Crawl Out Through the Fallout back to me", Travis' stammering voice was heard. Cait groaned and kicked at the outer door, then drew it open.

"Oi!" she called out. "Turn that shite off. The storm's gone."

Nathan and Piper came along after her, followed by Dogmeat. True enough, the sickly green pallor had left the sky passing on eastward, while the noon sky was starting to clear up. The four of them left the Combat Zone and, creeping along quietly, made their way along the northern side of the Boston Commons. There was no sign or sight of Swan, but neither Nathan nor Piper were willing to trust their luck. Cait, however, was still smarting from being withheld from whacking the two punished raiders.

"We shoulda whacked those bastards," she said. "They'll get free and then call more o'them here. This place'll be crawlin' with raiders before nightfall."

"Hopefully we'll be gone by then," said Nathan.

But their departure from the Combat Zone hadn't been unnoticed. From one of the ruinous building wrecks to the north, there appeared a nondescript wastelander: one of the vagabonds of the Commonwealth, dressed in ragged clothing made of the hide of some irradiated beast. The only thing that stood out from his outfit was the pair of sunglasses which he wore over his eyes. He remained in hiding until the three and their dog passed him by; then slowly he peered out to watch them leave. At this, the dog paused and turned about; the wastelander quickly ducked out of sight and tried to hide himself. The voice of the man was heard calling their canine companion to follow after them. The fact that he obeyed meant that he wasn't one of the irradiated hounds that wandered the cities. The strange man breathed a sigh of relief, then poked out his head and looked in the direction of the Combat Zone: he let out a sharp, amazed whistle.

* * *

By and by, the small party made their way along Tremont Street; their destination, to Nathan's surprise, was coming up on the left at the corner of Tremont and Park Street. It was the entrance to the old Park Street station. In Nathan's day, he remembered something in the newspaper about the station being purchased by Vault-Tech: it didn't make any sense why a military-contractor needed a public subway station, and it was one of many reasons why he was skeptical of them back then. He was almost going to think fondly of them until he remembered what he saw on the terminals in Vault 111.

"You alright, Blue?" Piper asked. Apparently she had noticed it.

"Yeah, just...reminiscing," Nathan replied.

"Well, can we reminisce later?" Cait asked. "Don't we got somethin' t' do first?"

"You're right, first we find this Nick Valentine," Nathan said.

But his thoughts lingered on what he had seen in the computer terminals. His thoughts lingered on this as they came to the entrance of the subway station. Large signs, many of them rusted, peppered with bullet holes, or painted over with rude graffiti, were erected which read: _Property of Vault-Tech. No Trespassing. Violators will be shot on sight_.

"Guess they weren't fond o' visitors," Cait remarked.

"Shh!" Nathan shushed. "We don't know what's waiting for us down there, so try and keep it quiet. If you see anyone, take them out quickly but quietly." Nathan gripped his .45 and led the way, while Cait and Piper, shotgun and 10mm in hand, followed on behind him and Dogmeat took up the rear. Down a flight of stairs they went into the main lobby of the station. Just then Nathan held up his hand to call for a halt; he could see someone moving out of the corner of his eye at the bottom of the stairs.

"Alright," Nathan whispered. "I'll go in first, find cover, and start laying down a wall of fire. Cait, you follow after me and fire when you see a target, got it?"

"Aye, cap'n," she replied.

"What about me?" Piper asked.

"You cover us from the stairs," Nathan said. "Make sure Dogmeat doesn't run out into the firing zone."

"Jus' watch yer arse," Cait added. "These blokes are Triggermen; they're a step up from raider scum."

"You know who they are?" Nathan asked.

"I hear shite from the folks at the Combat Zone," she replied. "They've got a lot o' machine guns. Won't be easy."

"Understoo..." Nathan stopped short. He realized that they were making more noise than he had initially thought. For a long, tense moment he held his breath and shushed the two ladies with him. He noiselessly counted the minutes as the Triggermen walked towards the sound they had heard. At last, the guard grumbled and went on his way. Nathan gave a gesture for the two women to wait for him as he went the rest of the way. At last he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, in full view of everyone at the other side of the turn-style.

"Hey!" one of the Triggermen called out. "Who the hell are y..."

_Bang!_ Louder than outside rang the shot that Nathan set off on the Triggerman, blowing a hole in his chest. All at once, half a dozen guns turned towards Nathan as he ran for cover. Shots rang out over and over, the loud rattling of the machine guns, nearly deafening those inside the subway station. Peering out from the other side of the stairway, Piper let out a squeal and then took her gun in her hands, squeezing the grip tightly as she then swung her arm around and fired off a shot in the general direction of the Triggermen.

"Shit! There's more of 'em!" one shouted.

"Keep it up!" Nathan called back, before peering up from cover and taking a shot at one of the Triggermen: he missed the chest and hit him in the right arm, but he went down. They unloaded rounds after rounds at his location, and bullets were flying all over the place. Nathan called for Piper, and she shot her arm out and squeezed off three more rounds, sending the Triggermen scrambling for cover. Nathan fired off another round, but it bounced off of the wall of the ticket booth.

"Cait!" Piper shouted, as she aimed her gun back around the corner and fired off three more rounds. "Could really use your help right now!" She fired off two more, then ducked back under cover as a hail of bullets peppered the wall at the bottom of the stairwell. Turning around, Piper saw that Cait was bent over, as if hiding something.

"Hey!" Piper shouted, and jabbed Cait in the shin with her boot.

"Shite!" Cait retorted, leaning back up: something fell from her grasp onto the floor, but the sound was muffled by the gunfire.

"We're in deep!" Piper said. "How about lending us a hand?"

Nathan rose from cover briefly to fire off another round, hitting one of the Triggermen in the shoulder. Another hail of machine gun fire peppered the wall behind him.

"Ladies!" he shouted. "Cover me!"

Piper leaned back out and fired three rounds, then her 10mm clicked.

"Dammit, I'm out!" she swore. She ducked back behind the wall and fumbled in her jacket for the next round.

"I'm comin' for you, bitch!" one of the Triggermen taunted.

But while Piper was reloading, Cait came out with her shotgun. One of the Triggermen, a Ghoul, turned toward her: a blast from her weapon blew off his arm and sent him falling to the ground. Another one aimed his machine gun at her, and squeezed the trigger. _Click_. He was empty. Cait didn't even bat an eye when the gun was aimed at her, nor even did she flinch when the trigger was pulled. When no bullets came, she frowned slightly, then sent off a blast from the hip that tore a hole in the Triggerman's suit.

There was no gunfire. Nathan rose from his place, looking about this way and that. No one took a shot at him. Piper reloaded and came out from cover when she saw that the others were out in the open.

"Are they dead?" she asked.

"This one ain't," Cait exclaimed. The one Nathan had hit in the shoulder was not dead. Taking out her baseball bat, Cait smacked the fallen man's head with all her might, exploding it like a watermelon. She then went among the bodies, looking over them and hitting those she thought were not 'dead enough.'

"Wish it hadn't come to that," Piper said to Nathan, eying Cait's brutality.

"Ye dunnae last as long as I have," Cait commented. "Without knockin' a few skulls. Gotta make sure ye put 'em down good, or they always come back t' bit ye in the arse." She knelt down and wiped her bat on the Triggerman's suit, and when she stood up she noticed Nathan was glaring at her oddly.

"Oi, cap'n!" she said. "Dunnae stare, speak! And if yer lookin' fer a shag, the answer's no."

Nathan blushed at her boldness and lowered his face. "Sorry, it was just...well, I've never seen someone stare down the barrel of a gun like that before. Stupid thing to do. You could have been shot."

"Not the first time I've stared down the barrel of'a gun," she replied. Piper noticed a hint of grimness in her voice, but didn't say a word. "And I dunnae need ye holdin' me 'and. I'm a big girl."

"I know," Nathan replied. "But this isn't a dick-measuring contest. We're out here, risking our lives, we have to have each other's back."

"Why?" Cait asked. "What good's that done anybody? Folk as expect somebody to have their back wind up dead or worse."

"Look, just don't take any unnecessary risks," Nathan replied. "If there are more of these Triggermen around, it'll be tough going for all of us. Now, form up on me."

"Is that some kind of army talk, Blue?" Piper asked.

"Yes, it is," he replied. "It means line up behind me. Now let's move out. If there are more of them, they'll have heard the firefight. Let's make this as quick as possible, got it?"

"Sure thing, Blue."

"Aye, cap'n."

Before they left, Nathan made a search of the bodies. To his dismay, none of them had any .45 ammunition. He double-checked his ammo: not enough to last him in another fire-fight of this size and length. He thought again of Righteous Authority, still in his duffle-bag. But the shape and feel of the .45 reminded him of the War, when he had one of these as a side-arm. Perhaps he was feeling nostalgic for a time now long gone, a time when the world made sense: a time when people were _somewhat_ less savage than today.

"Not yet," he muttered. Turning around, he whistled and Dogmeat followed after them.

* * *

From the turn-style, they went farther downstairs until they came to a loading ramp. It was deserted, and they were permitted to cross over to one of the large subway tunnels. The trains had long since come to a halt, and the tunnels were almost completely pitch black. Lamps powered by nuclear reactors continued to burn in some places, emitting eerie light here and there on the loading platforms but not in the tunnels. Nathan had to flip on the light of his Pip-Boy in order to see as they progressed through the subway tunnel.

As they were about half-way through one of the long tunnels, Piper whispered over to Nathan.

"What are you doing with that slug-thrower?" she asked. "That laser rifle you had at the Combat Zone's much better."

"Maybe I'm nostalgic for the old days," he replied. "But I'll keep that in mind when I run out. Not a lot of .45 ammo around here."

"Not a lot of ammo anywhere," Piper added. "Maybe Arturo has something. When we're done here, we should stop by Commonwealth Weaponry at Diamond City."

Nathan gave a quiet shush again. He could hear voices from the far end of the tunnel, and flashes of light.

"I take it that's the others," Nathan said. "Let's go in quickly. Take cover as soon as you find it and fire as they appear. Piper, keep Dogmeat safe. I'll go in first."

Running in a crouched position, Nathan made his way through the tunnel. The echoes he had heard were growing louder: someone was on the other end of the tunnel. A shot echoed loudly in the tunnel, followed by the faint, distorted cries of others farther down in a wide hall beyond. Soon bullets were flying every which way, and the three of them had to duck down for cover to avoid being hit. Luckily, there were several desiccated box-cars still on the tracks that gave them a substantial amount of cover, and the Triggermen had no explosives or grenades.

A shootout began in the tunnels, with Nathan, Cait, and Piper fighting off a dozen Triggermen. The lights in the tunnel were still running, thanks to whatever nuclear-powered generator they were hooked up to, and Nathan still had V.A.T.S. with him: a good thing, as it could spot a target in dim or low light conditions where even his own eyes could not see them. One by one, Triggermen started dropping as target after target was found. The last one was pinned with a shot to the head from Nathan, who then swore as he checked his .45.

"I'm out," he sighed. "And I liked this gun too!"

"Save it for when we get back to Diamond City," Piper advised. To this Nathan assented, and grabbed Righteous Authority to be his sidearm instead.

They made their way out of cover slowly, looking this way and that for any sign of movement. Cait would walk among the bodies, picking up anything she thought was useful, and giving them a smack with her baseball bat to make sure they were dead. Dogmeat followed behind Nathan and Piper, for he did not seem very fond of Cait.

The tunnel in which they were in led to a wide hall with a lofty roof. To the left they could see what looked like a construction zone: cranes, crates, and traffic signs were still standing - or riddled with bullet-holes - all along the left side of the hall. Nathan flipped on the spotlight of his Pip-boy and shone it into the construction zone: a gasp escaped from his lips as he saw what was inside. The rock had been drilled away and there stood a huge circular door in the side of the solid rock: he recognized the cog-wheel shape of the door itself.

"A Vault..." he gasped.

"Yeah," Piper added. "All these excavators here, it's like where they go to die."

"Looks like they never completed it," said Cait.

In the center of the Vault door was the number 114. Nathan walked up to the door and saw nearby the terminal. It was of the same style and make as the one he used to escape from Vault 111. He pulled out the plug and cord from his Pip-boy and plugged himself into the system.

"What are ye doin' that fer?" Cait asked.

"It's how I got out of Vault 111," he explained.

"And yer not seriously thinkin' 'bout goin' _in_ t' one o' these?" Cait asked.

"Why not?" Nathan asked. "This is where we need to go, isn't it? Besides, you said it wasn't finished."

"Aye, it looks that way," she replied. "But it could be otherwise. I heard o' some fucked up experiments Vault-Tec did in these vaults. I heard down in th' Capital Wasteland, there's one that's filled with hundreds o' clones o' one guy: mad as a bat and only says one word a'fore 'e guts ye."

The glass panel on the terminal opened and Nathan pressed the red button.

"I've heard stories about Vault 108 down in the DC hell-hole," Piper added with an ominous hint. "They say the vault was looted, but some of the clones escaped. Wastelanders say that you can always tell where the clones have been: everywhere, they leave signs of their whereabouts. Spray-paint, blood, pieces of junk, all spelling out the same word over and over, everywhere: Gary."

There was a loud roar as the alarm alerted the opening of the Vault. They stepped back as the great door turned and passed inside: the mouth of the Vault yawned open before them, leading down into the depths of the earth into who knows what. Nathan shouldered Righteous Authority, gently rubbed Dogmeat's side with his boot, then turned to the two women.

"Are you coming?"

"Do I have a choice?" asked Cait.

"This is where Ellie said Nick was, right?" Piper replied, checking the bullets on her gun. "I'm right behind you, Blue."

* * *

As they went in, they found two Triggermen who came from deeper inside to see what was making the noise. A blast from Righteous Authority slew one, and Dogmeat attacked the other one long enough for Piper to get a shot off: Cait, not convinced he was dead, gave him a few blows to the head with her baseball bat. Now they passed inside, Nathan eying the inside of the Vault with discomfort and grim memory. Noticing this, Piper walked up closer to him.

"Hey, you holding up there, Blue?" she asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yes," he dismissed, rolling his eyes. "Nothing quite like the feeling of being trapped inside a Vault far below ground with angry Triggermen around us."

"Alright, alright, I get it," Piper smirked. "Now what's _really_ bothering you?"

He sighed. "Bad memories, that's all."

"I could imagine," Piper remarked. "That story about Vault 108 is only the strangest story I've heard about what went on in these places: some of 'em..._really_ bad!" She whistled. "So, just so you know, if you ever need someone to talk to..."

"Thanks," Nathan said, curter than he had intended it to be. But he was starting to feel that uncomfortable feeling that he was replacing Nora with Piper. It still felt wrong, so close to her death (in his memory, at least).

He chose instead to focus on the task at hand and go forward quickly and as quietly as possible. He had managed not to get hit so far in this strange new world, and he did not like the idea of treating his wounds with irradiated water and not a single bit of clean cloth. The others noticed his lead and went as softly as possible: even Dogmeat slowed down his steps. Suddenly he paused, perking up his ears and cocking his head.

There were voices coming from the other side of the corridor that went down deeper into the vault. Nathan had them gather close to the walls of the tunnel and wait for them to arrive. They were now close enough that their voices could be made out.

"...probably some raider assholes," a gruff voice said. "The boys did 'em in good."

"Then why ain't they respondin'?" replied a less hoarse voice. "What, are they all takin' a piss or somethin'?"

"Fuck if I know. It ain't my job to ask questions, just to shoot shit."

"Jeez, what wise guy came up with the bright idea of buildin' a vault in a subway tunnel? It's the opposite of air-tight."

"You fuckin' moron," laughed the gruff voice. "Nobody ever _meant_ it to be finished."

"How the hell do you know?"

"We used to pull this kinda con all the time back before the War. Get a bunch o' union guys to do some construction work that never gets completed but keep 'em on the payroll."

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"How the fuck should I know? It was a fucked up time, back then. Anybody who even made a whiff of bein' a socialist was clapped for bein' a spy for the Chinese. Not that that did much good no-how, as quite a few ended up in office right up until the bombs fell. Bah! Socialists and capitalists can both go to hell: they screwed us over big time and left us with the mess."

"How do you figure?"

"A ghoul buddy o' mine went down to the old Boylston Club just down the street from 'ere. Used to be some ritzy social club or another, where all the white collar pricks used to sip wine and brag about how much money they have; I don't know. Anyway, my buddy scavved the place up; said that he found terminal entries there about some sort o' mass suicide right around the time the bombs fell. Fucking useless pricks screwed us over and took the easy way out!"

"Tough shit."

"Easy for you to say. Your face don't look like fried ass!"

About this time, two Triggermen rounded the corner right into the oncoming group. They didn't stand a chance. But Nathan was going over what he had heard from them in his head. Was this true? He knew about the Boylston Club; several former US presidents frequented that club, as they were among the lucky few in the US Commonwealth that could afford the $500k annual fee. Had they really done as this Triggerman's ghoul friend had said? Had they left the world to its doom, uncaring and unwilling to even remake it in their own image?

At that, Cait delivered a blow with her baseball bat to the ghoul Triggerman and made a scowl.

"Fucking sentimental piece of shite," she said.

"Was that really necessary?" asked Nathan.

"I don't hate ghouls more than I hate everyone else," Cait replied. "But his bitchin' and moanin' about the past was gettin' on me nerves. There's no point in thinkin' about days long gone. They're past, and they ain't comin' back: no good lookin' back." She pointed with her bloody bat to the ghoul's face.

"Whatever happened long ago don't mean shite to us," she added. "That world is dead...and this one is fucked as well."

"So what's the answer, then?" Nathan asked, his eyes seeing past her as he looked at her.

"How the fuck should I know?" she retorted. "I'm hopin' to get a good stiff drink at the end o'this slog. Let's get goin'; the sooner we're done here, the better."

Nathan nodded, and they went on their way down the winding tunnel into the depths of the vault. But Piper was looking with interest at Nathan. The questions brought up by Cait were of interest to her, and she was curious if Nathan wanted to talk about this later. She had a few ideas of her own, and wondered what he would think about them. Also...

* * *

On and on they went, going deeper into the earth. Several of the passages they came to where unfinished, and either fenced off with signs or blocked with large steel boxes. There were more Triggermen, but their numbers were starting to diminish the further they went in. At last, after a brief firefight, they came to a half-constructed room. There were no doors or passageways going farther in; only a service hatch that went down two stories with no ladder. The only other way to go was back into the subway station and out into the Commons.

"Dead end?" Piper asked.

"No, not yet," Nathan returned. "We go down."

"That looks like all o' twenty feet, at least!" Cait commented. "Unless you feel like limpin' on away at the bottom."

"No one's limping," said Nathan. "I'll climb down, and then you can jump down and I'll catch you."

"You sure you can climb down that?" Piper asked.

"Shouldn't be much different to basic training in the Army," he replied. Taking off his duffle-bag and setting aside Righteous Authority, Nathan flung his legs over the edge of the hatch and swung there idly for a few seconds. Then, kicking his legs back, he pushed himself off and leaped onto the lip of the second level below. He was now halfway down. Repeating the step with the second opening, he made the much shorter drop down to the third and lowest level.

"I'm down!" he called up. "Who's coming down first?"

"Uh-uh," Cait said, shaking her head. "I ain't jumpin' into yer arms t' let ye cop a feel. I'll make me way down same as ye."

"Can you make it?"

But Cait made no further answer. Instead, she was already dangling her legs over the edge of the first hatch. But though she was nimbler than Nathan, she was not as swift in the descent. She clung to the lip of the hatch until her fingers turned paler than before, and looked down periodically to see where she was going to put her feet. When at last she swung herself down onto the second level, her footing was uneven and it was only the swift grabbing of a wall pipe that saved her from falling down the rest of the way. Once she had recovered from the shock of nearly slipping, she made her way to the edge of the second hatch to try her luck.

"It's not that far to drop now," Nathan said, stepping back apace as her feet went over the edge. "You can make it from there if you hang from the edge."

"I know, I know," she replied. "Gimme some room, and stop starin' at me arse."

Cait now turned around and hung from the second edge for a few seconds before she too let go and landed on her feet with a smile and a chuckle. She then went down the hall to check things out while Nathan stepped back under the opening for the others.

"What about you?" he asked Piper.

"Oh, _no_ way I'm climbing down that," Piper chuckled.

"Well, you have to," said Nathan. "Or you could jump. Otherwise, you'll have to go back alone."

Piper let out a squeal and peeped over the edge, trying to judge how safe it was to make the leap down into Nathan's arms. Instead, she decided to send their gear over first. Stuffing the laser rifle into Nathan's duffle-bag, she dragged it over to the hatch with both hands and slid it down. Nathan caught it and placed it to the side, then turned to look back with his arms held out.

"Are you ready?" he asked again.

"Eh, just give me a minute!" Piper begged. She rose up and paced the floor, while Dogmeat walked over to the edge and looked down. Nathan held out his arms and called for Dogmeat, whistling and making clicking sounds with his tongue. Before Piper could make a sound or try to stop him, the dog leaped down the hatch and landed in Nathan's arms. He placed Dogmeat down, despite him licking his face over and over.

"Come on, Piper!" Nathan urged. "You can make it."

"Well, if he caught Dogmeat, maybe he'll catch me," Piper muttered to herself. Warily, and with her lower lip held in place by her upper teeth, she began to slide her legs over the edge of the hatch. Then, to Nathan's surprise, he saw that she was going to land on him feet first. He tried to tell her off, but she had let go and her foot slipped on the edge of the second hatch. He held out his arms and caught her as she was falling, but the force of her body threw him to the ground with her whole body pressing on top of him. Their faces were almost nose to nose, and her green scarf was dangling against his chin.

It was the first time since before the bombs that he had been this close to a woman. He noticed very suddenly her scent: whether she knew of some way to cleanse herself in this post-apocalyptic world, or her body odor was not strong, she smelled of something that reminded him of...home. Nora had been very meticulous about her perfume and always smelled of roses; but this smell was different, almost reminding him of his mother's chicken soup from when he was a child. That earthy, wholesome smell of meat in boiling stock.

"Thank you," Piper breathed.

"Yeah, don't mention it," Nathan groaned. Piper's whole weight was on top of him, especially on his groin. For a moment, she did not move, only looked down at him breathlessly.

Suddenly Cait cleared her throat loudly and threw Piper's hat into her face: it had slipped off her head when she had fallen onto Nathan. Taking her cap, Piper climbed off of Nathan, apologized sheepishly, then placed her hat back onto her head. Nathan grabbed the duffle-bag and took Righteous Authority out from it, then took point and led them into the lowest level of the vault.

* * *

Now the sound of Nathan's Pip-boy radio was nothing but static: no signal this far beneath the earth. They went on down the deserted corridors, with Dogmeat following on behind. If there were more Triggermen, they were not coming after them. Perhaps, this far down in the Vault, the sounds of above could not be clearly made out. But as they progressed, they became aware of voices echoing from farther on ahead. Nathan paused and made his way towards a closed sliding door with the words 'Vault 114' painted upon them. He heard one voice, clear and full of bravado, and heavy with the Bostonian accent.

"How you doin' in there, Valentine?" the voice said. "Ye feelin' hungry?"

Another voice spoke: stoic and even, but in a clear voice. It almost reminded him of Bogart from the holo-tapes of old films from the 20th century he used to watch as a child.

"Keep talking, Dino," said the second voice. "You'll give Skinny Malone plenty of time to figure out how to bump you off."

"Don't gimme that crap, V!" the one called Dino replied. "You ain't got shit! You know nuthin'!"

"Really?" asked the second voice. "I saw him writing your name in that black book of his. 'Lousy cheating card-shark' were his exact words; then he struck the name off three times."

"I don't think they know we're here," Nathan whispered to the others. "I'll go in and see what's up."

He pulled the lever and the door slid open. Inside was a large room with two stories: it looked like a prison cell, but with no bars. There were plenty of lights still running down here, and he could see everything. On the far end of the room, on the second level - the level above his - he could see a lone Triggerman, Dino, standing in front of a glass mirror. What appeared to be a very pale man in a trench coat and fedora was standing behind the mirror, as still as a board. Nathan crawled over and took Righteous Authority out and aimed it at the Triggerman.

"Three strikes in the black book!" gasped Dino. "I...I ain't never...Oh, shit! I gotta smooth is ovah..."

Nathan lined Dino up in his sights and squeezed the trigger as a blast of red light burst from the muzzle of Righteous Authority. Dino screamed aloud and then fell to the floor, a hole burned through his back with the blast.

"We're clear!" Nathan shouted.

The others stood up and followed him as he ran across the hall, found the stairway, and ascended to the second level. When he came to the glass window, he saw that the man inside had turned around and he could not see his face. But the back of his head, barely visible between the brim of his fedora and the collar of his jacket, was especially pale. Only a day or two and already he was looking this pale? Perhaps he had been poisoned and needed to be rescued at once. He went to the door leading to the room where the pale man was imprisoned, and found that there was no latch to open it. To the right of the door, against the wall, was a computer terminal.

Here Nathan was stuck. The Museum of Freedom had ware and tear on the keys and had been relatively easy to guess the password. This one, far underground in a Vault, had no such stains. He might spend hours trying to guess what the correct password was, and be locked out over and over.

"I don't know who you are," the voice of the occupant inside the room called out. "But we've got three minutes until they realize 'muscle for brains' ain't coming back. Get this door open."

"I'm trying!" Nathan retorted, as he pressed a key on the terminal. 'Please enter password' appeared onscreen. He looked around and tried to find some hint of what the password might be: maybe some letters printed or scratched on the side.

"You need to get in?" Piper asked.

"I don't know the password," Nathan sighed.

"I've heard that some of these terminals can be hacked pretty easily," Piper muttered. "Unfortunately, I'm not much for all that computerized stuff; good ol' pen and paper for me."

"What about you?"

"Me? Are ye daft?" Cait laughed. "They dunnae teach ye tech-shite in the Combat Zone...or in the wastes outside." There was something uncharacteristically grim about the way Cait said that last bit that made Nathan curious.

"Wait!" Piper spoke up, as she was rummaging through Dino's coat. "If that bozo was keeping Nicky locked up in there, then maybe _he's_ got the password somewhere." At last she pulled out a security card and gave it to Nathan. Upon the card was written the password, which he put in at once. No sooner had he been let in, but he moved down with the keys to select the manual release for the door lock.

The door opened and Nathan walked into the dimly lit room. Then he froze, and gripped tightly to the hand-grip of his weapon. The man in the coat and fedora approached him and lit up a cigarette. The flickering light showed that the face, which he had taken to be deathly pale, was not human at all: it was the pale gray face-plates of the synths he had encountered at ArcJet with Paladin Danse, only dirtier and with more dings and scratches. The artificial skin around the neck was almost completely gone, and Nathan could hear the whirring of gears and servo-motors. The most unnerving parts about him were his hands and his eyes. The left hand still had its pale-gray, beaten and scratched false skin, while the right hand was a thin metal skeletal hand of bony steel fingers. The eyes were yellow: not the natural yellow of a wild animal, but the mechanical glow of a halogen lamp.

"I take it you're my knight-in-shining-armor," the machine said; the voice sounded the same as he had heard before, little to nothing artificial about it. "Question is, why did he come all of this way and risk his neck for an old private eye?"

"What the hell are you?" Nathan asked.

"I told you, I'm a detective," replied the machine, as its metal hands removed the cigarette from its lips. "Look, I know the fake skin and metal parts ain't comforting, but it's not important right now. The only thing that matters is why you went through all this trouble to cut me loose."

"Hey Nicky!" Piper spoke up.

"Piper," the machine said, a grin appearing on its face. "Fancy seeing you here. Thought you'd be out chasing a story."

"That's why I'm here, actually," Piper replied. "Chasing the story of the century."

"And this guy here," the machine said, turning to Nathan. "You still haven't answered my question. Why are you here?"

"It's...complicated," Nathan replied. "Your secretary told us that we could find you here, so we decided to come and rescue you."

A smirk appeared on the machine's face. "Ellie's responsible for my rescue, then? I outta give her a raise. Now, listen, as I said, we gotta get out of here quickly. Turns out the runaway daughter I was hired to track down wasn't kidnapped; she's Skinny Malone's new flame, and she's got one hell of a mean streak." The eyes seemed to turn and contract, almost as though there were something resembling thought.

"Anyway," it concluded. "You've got problems and I've got problems; I'd be glad to help, but now ain't the time. Let's blow this joint, then we'll talk."

"I take it you're Nick Valentine, then?" asked Nathan.

"In the flesh," the machine added with a wiry grin. "Well, most of it, any way."

The party now followed Nick the robot sleuth as he led the way back through the hall. Dogmeat was staying close to Nick while Nathan eyed it suspiciously. He had had a rough time of it with synths back at ArcJet, and what Paladin Danse had said about them still rung in his ears. No matter how homey and 'safe' Nick's voice was, it was still a machine. As they were leaving, it stopped by Dino's body and lifted the Thompson off the ground that he had dropped when he was shot.

"Hmm," mused Nick. "Not exactly a pipe pistol, but it'll do."

They went back down the stairs they had gone when all of a sudden there were voices heard in the hall beyond.

"How many of them are there?" Nathan asked.

Valentine leaned out to peer out the open porthole. "About a dozen goons. Enough to mop the floor with us. We can do this however you like."

"I say we go in hot," Cait whispered. "Gun the fuckers down a'fore they know what's comin' t'em."

"Subtlety must not be your thing," said Valentine. Cait cracked a grin, but Nathan said nothing.

"Do you have any ideas, Nicky?" Piper asked.

"I know one," Nick replied. "Worked on a gang of raiders once. Might work this time. Stay here and don't come out until I say so." With that, Nick put down his Thompson and walked out into the hall. His hands weren't up and there was no expression on his pale face. Within moments, the Fingermen spotted him.

"Hold it right there, synth!" one shouted.

"Error: command override," said Valentine. "Self-destruct sequence initiated."

"He's bluffin'!" another one shouted.

"I'm afraid not, bucko," Valentine replied. "I've been rigged to blow. Time minus fifteen seconds and counting." Then the synth detective began beeping.

"Ice it!" another Fingerman ordered.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Valentine warned. "One shot and my core explodes with the force of a mini-nuke. Ten seconds and counting. Beep. Beep. Beep."

"Mothafucka!" a fourth Fingerman exclaimed. "Skinny don't pay me enough for this shit!"

"We have our odahs!"

"You wanna be dead or turned into a ghoul? Not me, I'm outta here!"

With that, the Fingermen ran back the way they came faster than one could blink. Then, to the amazement of Nathan, Nick actually laughed. It was so strange, hearing a distinctly human sound coming from a machine. It was not the programmed "ha. ha." of a Protectron, with which he was at least vaguely familiar: it sounded like a genuine chuckle he could have heard from your average fellow on the street.

"You can come out now," he said.

The three humans and the dog walked out of their hiding place to find Nick standing alone in a room that had once been full of twelve Fingermen. Now they were nowhere to be found: no bodies, no spent shell-casing, no bullet holes, no blast marks, no signs of struggle, nothing. They seemed to have all vanished.

"Bloody hell!" Cait exclaimed. "Where are they?"

"Oldest trick in the book," Nick replied. "Hardest part is to keep from laughing when they trip over themselves to run away."

"I can't believe that actually worked!" Nathan stated.

"People are so afraid of synths, they'll believe anything about them," Piper added.

"Let's hope the next thugs we face will be just as gullible as these goons," Nick stated.

"You have a problem with fighting?" asked Nathan.

"It's a bit complicated," Nick began. "But essentially, most people think that robots have some kind of rules hardwired into their noggins that keeps them from harming humans or allowing humans to come to harm. Problem is, synths don't have that rule."

"Are you saying you could kill us at any moment?" asked Nathan, starting to feel that he had foolishly let his guard down upon hearing this machine laugh.

"Look, I know this is a lot for you to swallow," Nick said. "Believe me, I don't even know the half of it - and it's my brain! But suffice it to say, I won't go around killing random people. There's always another way out of problems that doesn't involve violence."

"That kinda talk is a sure fire way t' get yerself shot in the arse," Cait commented.

"Well, it's a good thing my ass can take a few more hits than all of yours, isn't it?" Nick replied.

"So you won't fight?" asked Nathan.

"No offense, kid, but we just met," Nick replied. "I'm not about to download my memories onto a holo-tape and plug it into that thing on your arm. Maybe after we're outta here, once I have a chance to see just who _you_ are, maybe I'll tell you. If push comes to shove, I will fight: but right now, it'd be best not to."

Nathan agreed, and led the way back through the hall. But as they went, he was perplexed by what he had encountered. Of course, the idea that synths had no subroutines preventing them from harming life was obvious from his encounter at ArcJet. Doubtless if Danse were here, he would use this as evidence that synths were worthless and deserved being blown to bits. Nevertheless, the idea that a robot could act independent of its programming to protect, even value, human life was something bizarre to Nathan. It could not leave his mind, no matter how much he tried to dismiss it.

* * *

They carried on through the Vault, encountering very little along the way. As they could not climb out the way they had come, they found a secondary tunnel which led up to the surface. Unfortunately, it was locked and required a password to open. The terminal had no marks, scratches, stains, or any indication that could give them a clue about the proper password. But Nick Valentine was not so easily stumped. He walked over to the terminal and, with his skeletal right hand, inserted a wire into the terminal.

"What are you doing?" asked Nathan.

"Opening the door," Nick replied. "It's a simple process of finding the correct sequence of 0s and 1s in order to make just about any computer do exactly what you want." A beep sounded and the door slid open.

"Open sesame," Nick added with a wiry grin. Nathan chuckled.

They hurried on ahead, going up so many flights of stairs that Nick made a comment about the Vault designer being a fitness enthusiast. It baffled Nathan as to why a robot would say this, as they never got tired. Yet, by and by, they were making their way up to the level of the subway: the level just below ground, which connected again to the entrance. But as soon as they passed through, they found themselves facing the twelve Fingermen again. They were not fearful now, for their Thompsons were all aimed at the small group. At the head of the group was a very tall fat man in a suit with a Thompson of his own, and a shorter woman in a purple sequin dress with a baseball bat in her hands.

"The hell are you doing, Nicky?" asked the fat man. "You come to my house, threaten to blow up my guys: do you have any idea how much this is gonna set me back?"

"Skinny," Nick replied. "We both know I wouldn't be here at all, if it weren't for your two-timing dame. You outta tell her to write home more often."

"What's a matter, Valentine?" asked the woman. "You ashamed you got beat up by a girl? What you gonna do, carry me back home to daddy?"

"This ain't the old neighborhood, Nicky," Skinny threatened. "In this Vault, I'm king of the castle. You shoulda left it alone, cuz I ain't letting some private dick shut me down now I gotta good thing goin'."

"I told you we shoulda just killed him!" snarled the woman. "But you had to get all sentimental, talkin' all that crap about the good times!" She scoffed.

"Hey, I'm handlin' this, Darla," Skinny said to the woman at his left. "Skinny Malone's always got things under control."

"Is that so, fatso?" Darla, the woman asked. "Then what's this guy and his gal-pals doin' here? Valentine musta brought 'm here to rub us all out!"

The group froze in place. Cait was fingering the baseball bat in her hands and sizing up the woman Darla. Piper was eying the hall, looking for cover in case the Fingermen got violent. Dogmeat was crouched down, fur bristling, teeth barred, growling at the Fingermen. Nathan's hands were on Righteous Authority, and his eyes were on Skinny and Darla. But Valentine was already formulating a plan: his positronic brain was capable of computing nearly as fast as the human brain, and did not have the problem of "forgetting" key events.

"The Quarry," he whispered into Nathan's ear.

"What?" he replied.

"Tell Skinny about Lily June on the rocks," said Nick.

"This is gettin' nowhere, Skinny!" Darla growled. "Ice 'em!"

"Wait!" Nathan spoke up in a loud voice. He lowered his weapon and turned to the fat man. "Remember the Quarry, Skinny. Lily June on the rocks? Ring any bells?"

"Wha..." stammered Skinny, a dumbfounded look on his round face. "How the hell did you know about..." He grimaced, then lowered his Thompson. "Stand down, boys. They're free to leave." He then pointed a thick finger at Valentine. "But I'm warnin' you: if you're not outta my face in ten seconds, I'll rub the lotta you out. Don't care about what happened in the old days."

Piper turned to Nathan, a sly grin on her face. Cait was surprised, though her lips were still curled in a frown. Nathan then made his way past the Fingermen, and the others followed behind him. As they were leaving, they could hear Darla chewing out Skinny. And, to their amazement, he was not taking it.

"The hell you doin'? Kill 'em, Skinny!"

"No, Darla, they get a chance to leave," replied Skinny. "I'm puttin' my foot down." She mumbled something about her mother and ran away in a sulk. Suddenly Skinny cocked his Thompson and shouted "Ten!" in a loud voice.

But by this time, the group was already past the Fingermen and heading out the door of the Vault. Valentine led them down a side corridor where he claimed was a service ladder that led to the surface. Following on behind him, they found the ladder and began climbing up and up to the top. Since Dogmeat could not climb the stairs, Nick gave Piper his duffle-bag and held Dogmeat in his left arm while he climbed with his right. At the top, Nick's mechanical strength lifted the man-hole cover with ease and opened the way to the surface. Nathan rose up next, and let Dogmeat climb out of his arms as he sat on the ground to take wind: Cait came up after him, and she was smiling. Last came Piper, huffing and puffing with the duffle-bag.

"Geez, Blue!" she sighed. "What do you have in here, a body?"

Nathan laughed, but his eyes were on the stoic, unwearied synth. For all that he had heard, and agreed, with Danse's assessment of synths, he knew here and now that they wouldn't have been able to get out of the Vault without his help.

"Thanks, Valentine," he said.

* * *

**(AN: So there we go: our heroes break free and Nathan is only a little bit unsettled by the one friendly synth he's met so far. I referenced Asimov's Laws, which I believe would not have written into the programming of their synths. Although the whole "sentient synths" thing becomes a head-scratcher once you start thinking about the mechanics behind it. Definitely something worthy of discussion, which I may carry out in this story.)**

**(I'm amazed at how many people are still liking and following this story. All of that has given me the drive to publish another chapter, since most of my energies have been toward writing my official series [and not even playing _Lord of the Rings Online_! Sad, I know!]. Thankfully, after many long months, I have finally give you a chapter update! Hope you like it.)**


	8. Man Against Man

**(AN: So while it doesn't look like I've done a lot of anything lately, I've been doing quite a bit of research into the _Fallout_ lore. Some of it I disagree with, but for the sake of keeping these author's notes short, I won't go into a rant. Long story short, _Fallout 1_ had an interesting premise as far as "hard science fiction" goes, which I enjoyed and decided to ape for this "little" fic. How? Well, that would be spoiling things, wouldn't it?)**

**(As usual, trying to make sense out of Fallout 4's map of Massachusetts with a real life one for comparison is difficult. If you notice that I "moved" the Lonely Chapel to southwest of ArcJet rather than northwest, that is my decision based on the nearest church in that area resembling the ones in-game. There is no Fort Hagen in our Boston area, so I plunked it down in the general vicinity and called it a "post-21st century" addition.)**

* * *

**Man Against Man**

The walk back to Diamond City was mostly uneventful. Aside from heading for cover as they approached the overpass, not a soul tried to attack them. As they went, Nathan examined his gear. Righteous Authority needed a recharge, for which he was woefully short: somehow, he got the idea that batteries used for laser rifles were in short supply in the Commonwealth. The Triggermen they had gunned down had a few caps on them, which Cait had nabbed while she was making sure they were dead. This meant that once they came back into town, they had enough to at least buy a few things for themselves.

As it took an hour to reach the Park Street area from Diamond City, so it took them an hour to make the return journey. Once they returned, Piper stopped by Publick Occurrences to see how her sister Nat was doing, and then went off towards the upper stands: where the folks with more than a handful of caps to their names dwelt above the common people of Diamond City. Cait, meanwhile, gave Nathan the majority of their caps while she took a few and went to the Chem-I-Care stand. Nick led the way back to his office and was at once met by a very relieved Ellie Perkins.

"Oh God, it's really you, Nick!" she exclaimed.

"Well, it's hard to mistake this mug for anyone else," replied Nick sardonically.

She chuckled ruefully. "I was worried about you. You keep laughing at death, one of these days death'll laugh back at you."

"Not while I have a few friends to back me up," Nick said, turning to Nathan.

Ellie then turned to Nathan and practically begged him to help Valentine with some of his cases. But the cool-headed synth detective was able to talk his assistant down: he wanted to help Nathan with his case first before burdening him with anything else. Ellie offered him a few caps for his trouble, which he took: but his eyes were still on Valentine. Nathan felt a strange feeling of respect for this robot detective: he, not it, was helping him expedite the rescue of Shaun.

"Now then," Nick said. "Let's get down to business. Take a seat, make yourself comfortable. Let's hear this 'complicated' story of yours, from the beginning. Don't worry about time: in this line of work, the devil's in the details. So anything you can tell me will be helpful: no matter how insignificant...or painful, it might be."

Nathan sighed. He feared that he would have to be forced to relive this again, but now the moment came. And there was no one there beside him, only Dogmeat's large brown eyes looking up curiously at him. He almost wished that Piper was here: if her cheerful demeanor wouldn't help, she certainly seemed sympathetic. At last, Nathan grit his teeth and started talking. He went on a brief review of who he was - a soldier of the Old World who fought the Chinese in the War - and how he had met Nora and their child. Then he went into the talk of that fateful day: two hundred years ago, but which felt to him like just yesterday.

"We went into the Vault," he concluded. "Vault 111. I didn't know it at the time, but when we got out, I checked the terminals, trying to make sense out of everything that happened. It was some kind of experiment: a cryogenic testing facility. Me and Nora and Shaun were frozen, along with the rest of the occupants."

"Hmm," Nick mused, taking quick notes with a pencil on a pad of dirty paper. "On ice underground, locked up in an air-tight facility. Quite a few obstacles to get through. Go on."

"We were put inside these...pods," Nathan continued. "Then...everything went white. When I came to again, I was still inside the pod. That's when it happened."

"Go on," Nick replied. Nathan looked up at the machine, feeling resentment at the implacable tone of the synth detective.

"Some men in white coats came," Nathan slowly said. "I didn't hear any names. They...they took my son Shaun! He's only a few months old!"

"I see," Nick noted. "A lot of effort went in to taking someone from your family, and a baby at that. That would mean taking on a lot of care. Anything else you remember?"

Nathan sighed, rubbing his eyelids with his right hand. Wasn't this enough? He had seen death face-to-face at Anchorage, seen many good boys on both sides slain ruthlessly: but then to see that happen to Nora was more than he could be asked to bear. He could still see, burned into the back of his eyes, her eyes frozen open in horror as she slumped into the seat of her cryo-pod: unmoving, uncaring, dead. He couldn't shake the sight of Nora from his mind.

"Nora..." he finally forced himself to say. "She tried...to keep them from taking Shaun...and they killed her! The son of a bitch murdered her!"

"It's okay," Ellie said sympathetically. Nathan's eyes were shut as hot tears poured out of the corners and down his face.

"A couple of cold-blooded killers, but not raiders," Nick noted. "They would have shot first and taken captives later. Whoever set this kidnapping up waited until something went wrong to resort to violence. This wasn't a random kidnapping: whoever took your son had some kind of agenda."

"Who could have done this?" Nathan sobbed.

"Well, there's a lot of players in the Commonwealth who kidnap people," Nick explained. "Raiders, Gunners, super mutants, and of course, there's the Institute. But speculation isn't going to help you get your son back. I need something more to go on. Can you tell me what the kidnappers looked like? You said something about white coats."

"Yeah," Nathan nodded. "All except one. Bald, scar on his left eye. He was the bastard who shot Nora. I'll never forget the sound his gun made..."

At this, Nick suddenly looked up from his notes. "You didn't happen to hear the name Kellogg mentioned, did you?"

"Why? Do you think he has Shaun?"

Nick mused for a moment. "Ellie, let me see what we've got on Kellogg."

Ellie went over to a filing cabinet and removed a folder with the name 'C. Kellogg' on the tab. Nick thumbed through it momentarily before pulling up a single document.

"What is it?" Nathan asked, urgency in his voice.

"Conrad Kellogg," Nick replied. "A mercenary who matches your description. Does a lot of wet work, though no one knows who his employer is. And just a few months ago, he bought a house here in Diamond City: he had a kid with him."

"How old was the kid?" Nathan asked.

"About ten years old," Ellie added.

Nathan sighed in defeat. "A dead end. There's no way that can be Shaun."

"A big difference between an infant and a ten-year-old," Nick conceded. "But that doesn't mean we're on the wrong track."

"Well, if we know where he's at," Nathan returned. "Then let's go over to this house and catch that son of a bitch! I'll make him tell me where he took Shaun if I have to beat it out of him!"

"I admire your enthusiasm," Nick said. "But I'm afraid that's not going to be of much use to us. Last note on here is that Kellogg and this kid he had with him disappeared without a trace." Nathan sighed, hanging his head in defeat.

"Then that's it?" he asked. "There's nothing more we can do?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Nick replied. "We can search his last known address: a shack on the West Stands. Unfortunately, we'd have to get the key for that house."

"Where would I get the key to his house?" Nathan asked.

"Mayor McDonough keeps spares of all keys from the Stands' houses in his office," Ellie noted. "You could try there."

Nathan sighed. "Thanks, both of you. I really do appreciate it." He then rose up to leave.

"If you don't mind me tagging along with you," Nick added. "I want to check out Kellogg's old joint as well. Need to update my files with anything I can find on him."

"Be my guest," Nathan replied.

"Don't be getting yourself into any more capers, Nicky," Ellie replied.

"Ellie, I wouldn't dream of doing anything of the sort," Valentine replied with a wiry smirk.

Nick gave the folder back to Ellie, then he, Nathan, and Dogmeat walked out of Valentine's Detective Agency. While they were on their way out, a figure appeared from behind the corner of one of the shacks. It was a rather nondescript figure: clad in ragged pants and a nearly threadbare jacket and hood, pulled up to conceal its head. A beanie was upon the stranger's head beneath the hood, a bandana upon its face for a mask, and over its eyes were a pair of large, dark sunglasses. The stranger eyed the blue-clad stranger as he made his way out of Valentine's Detective Agency from behind its shades.

* * *

They walked the bases over to the open-air market, where Cait was trying to argue with Takahashi over a drink; but the protectron butler would only say "_Nan-ni shimasko-ha_" in reply to everything she said.

"Bloody machine!" Cait swore. Then, upon seeing Nathan return. "There y'are. So, where are we off to next?"

"The mayor's office," Nathan replied. "We're hoping to get the key to the house of the son of a bitch who kidnapped my son."

"This outta be good," Cait grinned, and left the bar and joined the little posse. They made their way toward the southern end of the stadium. Somewhere between the Dugout Inn and First Base, they found a makeshift stairway which led up onto the Stands. This, Nathan realized, was his first proper look at the stands. These were filled with houses that, while shacks, seemed to be in better shape than the ones on the field. There were a few people up here, and Nathan noticed their clothes were cleaner and less ragged than those below.

But they were not here for the people in the Stands. Up the stairs they went until they found a new addition to the stadium: a lift. The four of them climbed into the long, narrow lift, closed the metal gate behind them, then turned the lever to the up position. The hydraulics were still in good condition, and the massive lift brought them up to what had once been the commentary booth. Only now the glass had been removed and it had been turned into the office of Mayor McDonough. To the surprise of no one, they found Piper arguing with a young woman with blonde hair sitting behind a desk.

"Why doesn't the Mayor come out of his office, huh?" Piper demanded. "He afraid of talking to the press or something? I bet if I said I was with the Institute, he'd come running..."

"Do you ever think," the young woman asked, in her best attempt at a pleasant voice. "That, maybe, you could get a man's attention if you used softer words? Maybe shout a little less?"

"Aww, you know what?" Piper retorted, a scathing look on her face as she gesticulated with her hands. "That reminds me of a little story I'm working on about the Mayor's affair with a certain air-headed blonde!" Nathan cleared his throat. Piper turned about, a bit red in the cheeks at his sudden appearance.

"Oh, hey, look who it is! What brings you to the Mayor's office, Blue?"

"Why are _you_ here?" Nathan asked.

Piper leaned in. "McDonough's been meeting with the same suspicious looking courier every other week. Not from any settlement I've heard of, not from one of the caravans: always in and out before anyone has a chance to talk to him. I'm thinking an errand boy from the Institute; and once I've got this next article out, everyone in Diamond City will be asking about it!"

"Excuse me, Piper," the young woman from behind the desk spoke up. "But if you're quite finished crowding the reception area, the Mayor needs to make time for more...responsible citizens." She then turned to Nathan. "Can I help you with anything? The Mayor will be free to speak with you shortly...as long as you're not with the press."

"I need to get into the house on the West Stands," Nathan said. "Belonged to some guy named Kellogg. Do you know where I could get the key?"

"That house was repossessed by the city after Mr. Kellogg disappeared," the young woman replied. "You'll have to ask the Mayor for the key."

"Isn't there anything you can do to help me?" Nathan asked.

The young woman took the pen from her desk and idly tapped it against the side of her lips. "And if I could, why should I?"

"Oh, I don't know!" Piper commented. "Has anyone ever thought about helping each other in this city?"

"I'll give ye a reason," Cait added.

"Don't listen to them," Nathan replied. After spilling the guts about the death of Nora, he was feeling less harsh and more open. He sighed, and wiped the tears away from his eyes. "Look, the guy who owned the house, Kellogg, he kidnapped my son. I...I want to get him back."

The young woman's blue eyes turned to Nathan, she stopped playing with her pen, but she said nothing. Instead, she reached into her desk as if she hadn't heard him and pulled out a copy of _Publick Occurrences_ and began reading it.

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" Nathan asked, starting to grow irritated.

"Yes I did," the woman replied. "But I'm the Mayor's secretary. I'm awfully busy, you know. So much to do, so little time to do it. If I'm not careful, I just might forget about something important." With that, a key fell from behind the newspaper and landed on her desk. She turned in her chair, putting her back to them as she continued reading. Nathan's eyes welled with surprise as he gazed at the key. Piper held back a squeal of amazement and Cait merely looked at him with something between amazement and disapproval. Nathan reached over for the key.

"Your son's lucky to have a father like you," the secretary said, her back still turned to Nathan. "I hope you find him."

"Thanks," Nathan whispered as he snatched the key from the desk. They then made their way back to the lift, with Piper following along after them. While the lift was descending, Cait approached Nathan: her face was unreadable, but not friendly.

"So what's the catch?" she asked him.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"I was hopin' for a bit of action up there," she said. "But ye jus' sweet-talked that bitch into helpin' ye out. I coulda re-arranged her face for ye: that always gets people talkin'. So what's the catch?"

"What do you mean?" Nathan asked. "There's no catch."

"Then what the fuck are we doin'?" Cait asked.

"We're going after this Kellogg guy," Nathan said. "He took my son. If you want to help me, you're welcome to tag along."

"Uh-huh, yeah," she nodded. "And then what?"

"What do you mean?"

"I ain't stupid, ye ken. If I do somethin' for ye, I ken ye expect somethin' in return. So let's have it out now. What do ye want? And don't be askin' fer a shag, I ain't that easy."

"I want my son back," Nathan retorted firmly. "After that...after that, I don't know." He trailed off, his eyes looking westward toward the tops of the dilapidated cities, slowly sinking behind the stadium. "I guess I have much to think about as well."

"Ye...ye mean yer not askin' a thing from me?" Cait asked. "Not a thing?"

"Have my back in the next firefight?" Nathan asked.

Cait did not answer him immediately. She walked over to the far edge of the lift, a stunned look on her face: it was the first time in a long while since she had not gotten the last word in a discussion, and she was amazed herself. But she was not the only one.

* * *

Down from the Stands they went, across the field, and back up again onto the West Stands to Kellogg's house. The key went into the lock, and soon the door was open. None of them expected to find Kellogg waiting for them inside, so they were not surprised to find that the place was empty. It looked like the inside of a box-car with a small second floor made of wooden planks. The four of them searched the area thoroughly, looking for anything that might give them an indication of where Kellogg went. But it was woefully bare, and to Nick's surprise rather small for a box-car.

"Hey, guys!" Piper exclaimed. "I found something over here!"

On the end of the room, far away from the door, was a desk with a chair at it. Piper was kneeling down, examining something underneath the desk. Nathan knelt down beside her and saw what appeared to be a small button attached under the desk. Pressing it slid open a door into a hidden room to the left of the desk. Inside was a kind of personal lounge. A rather nice looking chair with a small table stood inside, with a wall filled with makeshift shelves on the other. To the wall Piper went, eying a shiny Nuka-Cola, while Cait examined what else might be there. Nathan, meanwhile, was looking at the table. On it were a few beer bottles - Gwinnett Stout - several strewn .44 caliber bullets, and a cigar in an ash-tray.

"San Francisco Sunlight," Nathan said, looking at the label on the cigar.

"A runaway from the NCR," Piper mused.

"NCR?" asked Nathan.

"New California Republic," she replied. "They're the power out west, according to some caravans who've been that far and back. Trouble is, few people go out that far and even fewer come back. Tribes and raiders dominate the Midwest, not to mention all the monsters: no one gets out of there alive, so nobody wants to even try."

"Whoever this bastard is," Cait commented. "He's seen some real shite."

"Is this it, then?" Nathan asked. "Another dead end?"

"Not exactly," Nick stated. "Where's that dog you had with you? Dogmeat, I think his name was?" At the mention of his name, Dogmeat walked over and rubbed his back against Nathan's leg.

"Speak o'th' devil," Cait muttered.

"What's your plan, Nick?" Nathan asked.

"Commonwealth dogs can track a man for miles," Nick stated. "And unless there's another person this side of the Mojave who likes Sunlight cigars, that's our best bet at finding Kellogg."

"That's bullshite," Cait said. "There's likely dozens o' smells out there. That mangy little mole-rat'll just lose the scent."

"Only one way to find out," Nathan replied. He knelt down and presented the cigar to Dogmeat. The dog pressed his nose against it for a few moments, then turned around and began walking out of the house, sniffing the air.

"Well I'll be damned!" Cait muttered.

"Let's go!" Nathan said, following the dog's trail. "He'll lead us to Kellogg."

* * *

The party of five left Diamond City and began following Dogmeat westward, out of the ruined city. They had left with few provisions, as Nathan was eager to find his son now that the way before him was clear and apparent. Such was the drive of the Sole Survivor of Vault 111 that his companions followed him without a second thought or objections. They were on a quest for vengeance and nothing could stop them. Unfortunately, the journey was not an easy one. Several times Dogmeat came to a halt and Nathan had to present the cigar to his snout before he started off on the trail. More than that, their journey to Park Street Station had taken several hours out of the day and they would be benighted before they left the greater Boston area.

Into one of the dilapidated buildings they made a stop for the night, with Nick taking the first watch. Cait was snoring like a log, while Piper was petting Dogmeat who lay across her knees. Nathan was also awake, the light on his Pip-Boy on as he examined some of the readouts. Piper looked over at him, his face half-green in the light of the device on his arm.

"Hey, Blue," she said. "You have a minute?"

"What's up?" he asked.

"I was just thinking about what you did for Nicky back at Vault," she said, a smile on her face. "Not only did you stick your neck out for him, you managed to get past Skinny and the Fingermen without firing a shot." She chuckled. "Always on good behavior, aren't ya?"

"Didn't realize I had been, to be honest," Nathan replied.

"So this is you not even trying, huh?" she teased. "Still, I shouldn't argue. Not many folks these days wanna be bothered helping others in need." She sighed. "Then again, it's been my experience that if you wanna do real good, playing nice only gets ya so far." She let out a frustrated sigh.

"I mean, look at Diamond City, Blue! I've been trying to warn them about real danger for months..."

"Which is?"

"Institute synths hiding in plain sight," Piper replied.

"Do you have any proof of this?"

"Well...no," she admitted. "Nothing rock solid, at least. But there's a lot of questions that need answering: people disappearing, Diamond City security told to look the other way with the kidnappings, and the Mayor and his private visits. Something's wrong here, and I'm gonna find out what it is." She groaned.

"But every issue I publish, all I ever hear is; 'Oh, Piper, why don't you ever publish anything happy?' 'Piper, why can't you write something nice for a change?'" She completed her frustration with condescending imitations of several noteworthy people of Diamond City, then took the press cap off her dark head. Nathan happened to catch a glimpse of her with her head uncovered and her hair down and stopped pretending to play with his Pip-Boy.

"It's almost enough to make me wanna hang up my hat some days," she admitted.

"Sounds exhausting," Nathan said in a sympathetic tone.

"Heh, no kidding," replied Piper. "But people deserve to know the truth. Sure, it can be scary knowing what's really out there. I mean, hell, a night doesn't go by where I'm not afraid some Institute drone'll decide today's the day to pay ol' Piper and family a visit." She sighed.

"But it's worth it, because I know the truth; and that's what protects us."

"Can't protect your loved ones if you don't know what you're up against, eh?"

"Exactly! Most folks just prefer a comforting lie; not me." She sighed heavily.

"Nat and I grew up in a tiny settlement way out in the Commonwealth," she began. "Our dad was part of the local militia: 'keepin' the raiders off our backs and the 'lurks outta our latrines', as he used to put it." There was a hint of fondness in her voice as she mentioned her father.

"Lurks?"

"Mirelurks," Piper replied. "Yeah, that's right, Blue. You're new to all of this. Big thing, covered in a tough shell with big claws: nasty! I doubt that laser rifle of yours would do much good against them, unless you managed to hit them underneath."

"I'll try to remember that," Nathan said. "Go on with your story."

Piper swallowed hard. "I...I haven't told many people this. So just to let you know how much you mean to me...uh, I mean, how much I trust you...I...geez, did it get hot in here all of a sudden?"

"Just fuckin' shag already," Cait groaned. "I'm tryin' t' sleep 'ere."

Piper frowned at Cait, then gently pushed Dogmeat off and made her way up the stairs to the second level of the dilapidated building that was their shelter. Nathan, curious to hear more of her story, followed after her. On the second level, a wall had caved in and provided a clear view of the starry night sky. Here Piper sat down on the rickety floor and Nathan sat down next to her.

"Go on with your story," he urged.

"It's really hard, you know," she said. "We said goodbye to him, I packed him a meal, and told him we'd be good...then the next thing you know, he turns up dead! His asshole captain, Mayburn, claimed raiders must have gotten him on his watch. I didn't buy it, so I started asking questions, and it wasn't long until I found the truth: Mayburn had sold out, thought he wasn't getting paid enough to babysit the entire town and decided to leave the gates open and let raiders sack the top."

"And take what he wanted in the middle of battle," Nathan mused.

"Yeah, well, my dad found out about that and didn't like it," Piper continued. "He was gonna turn Mayburn in, but Mayburn got to him first. Once I learned the truth, I wasn't about to let that bastard get away with murder. But...the mayor of the little settlement didn't listen to me: so I went rogue. Papered the town with posters: 'Wanted for Gross Dereliction of Duty: Captain Mayburn.'" A look of grim satisfaction was on her face.

"The mayor sure wanted to talk after that. The town through Mayburn out on his ass and were dug in when a very surprised group of raiders finally showed up."

"What happened after that?" asked Nathan.

"We made due on the kindness of others," Piper replied. "Didn't have much choice in the matter. Sis was really young at the time and our mom was...out of the picture. Eventually I saved up enough to book us passage with a caravan and came out to Diamond City and called it home ever since." To his surprise, Nathan found his hand reached out and touching Piper's shoulder: an idle gesture of comfort, but it was not lost on him that she was the first woman that he had touched since...since... He couldn't recall what he was about to say: all that he knew was that she too had lost someone in as sorry and savage a way as he had.

"I'm sorry about your dad, Piper," he said.

"Thanks, Blue," she replied. "It was hard after he was gone, but knowing that he died doing the right thing, that's always made it easier." She then glanced over at his hand and cleared her throat. "Hey, I...I'm sorry if I've been rambling: I just get fired up sometimes. It's just nice to talk to someone who, you know, actually gets it. Now come on, let's try and get some sleep in this dump. We've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

Nathan agreed and the two of them descended the stairs and went back to their corner of the building and tried their best to get some shut-eye in the unquiet and restless dark.

* * *

Nick remained on watch all that night. Aside from some bold molerats, nothing troubled his watch. When the sun rose, Nathan was the first one to waken. It was the first good amount of sleep he had had in a while, even though it was against a hardwood floor. He roused the two women, then went to Dogmeat and waved the Sunlight cigar before his snout: he wanted them to leave immediately, without even taking any thought to breakfast.

"Maybe we should lighten up on the throttle, there," Nick commented. "My internal power cells can power me from here to the Capital Wasteland, but the rest of you still have to eat first. You'll need the strength for the road ahead, which I'm pretty sure is going to be a long one."

Nathan allowed a brief breakfast: they finished off the food supplies from Nathan's duffle-bag, with Nathan eating little for himself. Once they were done, Nathan shouldered his burden, gave Dogmeat another sniff of the cigar, then let him take off like a shot. The four of them followed after the dog: Nathan was at the front, going as fast as his military training would take him, and urging the others to keep up the pace. The servo-motors in Nick's legs could carry him just as fast as Nathan with the added bonus of not tiring: however, he kept a steady pace so as to keep an eye on the rear. The two women ran as fast as they could, though Cait outpaced Piper.

The trail led westward, out of the greater Boston area and towards Weston. Several other times they had to stop and have Dogmeat smell the cigar again before heading out. No sooner had Dogmeat found the trail, but Nathan urged them onward, only resting when he could go no further: and even then, he was the first to forge ahead on the trail. His muscles ached and silently begged for a rest, while Piper and Cait huffed and puffed just a short distance behind him.

"Keep up!" he called back sternly to them. "We have to find him!"

"Just...give me a minute, Blue!" Piper huffed. "I'm a bit out of practice."

"Been gettin' fat sittin' on yer arse in Diamond City, have ye?" Cait retorted.

"Hey, I'm not fat! And you're one to talk...outta breath like me!"

"Save it," Nathan said. "We're not gonna wait for you."

"I'll just be a minute, Blue!" Piper exasperatedly answered.

"She'll just be a minute, Cap'n," Cait interjected. "The lady's gotta catch 'er breath. Not used t' sloggin' it rough like the rest o' us."

"Hey, I ain't no lady," Piper retorted.

"Neither am I, princess."

"With a mouth like yours, it's a wonder no one's managed to put you in the ground yet."

"Not yet, though nae from lack o' tryin'."

"Cool it, both of you!" Nathan sharply snapped. They both fell silent, and Dogmeat let out a soft whimper. "This is getting us nowhere! We have to stay focused: find Kellogg, then you two can have it out."

Cait said nothing, but Piper looked at Blue with a mixed look of disapproval and curiosity on her face. Something was wrong and she wanted to find out what it was. But with the way that he was going, she hoped that she wouldn't pass out before she learned what was happening.

After a short break, they carried on the trail, with Dogmeat following on the scent. At one point he paused, sniffed the air, and went in a different direction. Nathan was surprised by this, but did not question it. He was wholly within the power of this adorable animal - as absurd as that thought seemed once manifested. In any case, he was in a strange new world and the only hope of finding Kellogg - and Shaun, potentially - was this dog.

* * *

Early in the afternoon, Dogmeat came to a second halt. They were outside the ruins of an old church several miles south of Concord, in what had once been the town of Wayland. Here they paused for a brief moment, as Dogmeat remained still. Nathan had the others search the place for any signs of Kellogg, while he went inside the dilapidated church and looked around. Kellogg was not there, but he didn't expect to find him here either. Instead, he wanted some kind of solace while here in the chapel.

The Halls had been nominally religious: they went to church every Sunday and had their confirmation, but continued to live like everyone else the other six days of the week. During the War, Nathan had seen 'the world' such as it was, and became much more 'serious' about his personal faith. He was going to start taking Nora and Shaun to a little church in Concord - one of the few churches still open - once they had 'properly settled in' at Sanctuary Hills: then everything changed.

"Hey, Blue," Piper spoke up. Nathan was stirred from his thoughts and turned around. Piper was standing behind him, a thought expression on her face.

"Oh, hey Piper," he replied.

"You doin' okay?" she asked.

"Hmm? Oh yes, I...was just thinking."

"About the church?" she asked. "Didn't take you for a religious type. Then again, from what I hear tell, religion was sort of dying out just before the bombs fell. Is that true?"

"Only half-true," Nathan replied. "It seemed the more and more we unlocked the secrets of nuclear power, the more and more scientists and political talking heads saw themselves as gods. Churches were forced to tow the line or close their doors. But..."

"But what?"

"Times get harder, people look for answers," Nathan replied. "I'm sure Nora would have just laughed it off, but no matter how hard you try to destroy something, it always comes back...especially if it's needed."

"That's an...interesting way of putting things," Piper said. "Of course, religion isn't exactly dead out here either: it's just...gotten weirder. Remind me to tell you about the Church of the Atom some time."

At this point, Valentine finished searching the grounds and came back to where Nathan was standing.

"There's nothing here," he said. "If Kellogg came this way, he's definitely gone now. You want my advice, let Dogmeat get a whiff of that cigar again. Maybe he'll find out where he went." Nathan nodded, but made no answer. "You thinking about the afterlife?"

"No, just thinking," Nathan replied.

"Folks need something to get them through the terrors of the real world," said Nick. "And trust me, this world is full of that kind of stuff."

"Just makes 'em soft," Cait added, as she joined the party. "There ain't nothin' savin' yer arse but yerself."

"I'll remember that the next time you're pinned down in a fire-fight," Nathan commented.

"What, ye dunnae believe this shite, do ye?"

Nathan's lips curled into a snarl. "What I believe? I believe that one way or another, Kellogg is going to get what's coming to him."

"Unless we find 'im fast, it ain't happenin'," Cait replied. "I've seen me share o'th' world. Folk as cannae defend themselves get fucked real bad, and those with tha guns make their own rules. There's no such thing as justice or fuckers gettin' theirs."

"Not unless we give it to them," Nathan stated. "Load up, we're heading out."

The others readied themselves to depart, while Nathan let Dogmeat have another whiff of the cigar. After a moment or two of roaming around the abandoned church grounds, Dogmeat gave a bark and took off at a run. Nathan was the first one after him, with Nick following on behind and then the women bringing up the rear.

* * *

Another hour passed, and then they came to another Red Rocket truck-stop. Here they came to a halt, for Dogmeat was barking loudly and growling towards the south. They saw a still standing US military fort with sandbags still fortifying the topmost level. From the marquee of the Red Rocket station, Nathan learned that this was a fueling station for the Fort Hagen military base: pre-war, but not pre-21st century. They took shelter behind the wall of the fueling station while Nathan examined the base just beyond.

"Huh, funny," Nick dryly exclaimed. "You'd think an old military base would be bristling with security turrets. But my sensors aren't detecting even a single one."

"What the hell does that mean?" asked Cait, panting.

"It could be a trap," Nick replied. "A skilled slicer could get the turrets down without blowin' 'em up. Of course, scavers might have gotten here first."

"This is the place, though," said Nathan. "The scent is strongest here. Isn't that right, Dogmeat?" The dog nodded his head. Turning to the women, he made sure that their guns were full, then gave them orders to cover him as he went inside the fort first. Taking one last look at the surrounding area, he gripped Righteous Authority and ran towards the fort. Cait and Piper came up after him, with Nick and Dogmeat bringing up the rear. Across the street and the barren, gray and brown field they went, up to the doors of the fort. But there was no resistance: no gunfire, no alarms, no Mr. Gutsies - the war-time variant of the Mr. Handy octo-bot - engaged them. It was too quiet.

Into Nathan's mind came again Nick's words. Could this be a trap?

Inside the fort, they found it abandoned. Each room they went in, they found no trace of anything, living or otherwise. There weren't even signs of struggle, or stirred dust on the floor. At Nathan's insistence, they searched the rooms on either side of the main hallway, looking for some sign of where Kellogg might have gone: Dogmeat remained at Nathan's side, where he hoped he might pick up the scent again. Aside from a rather peculiar piece of hardware that Nick picked up from a locker, they found little else.

They found at last an elevator that was still in serviceable condition, but there was no power to operate it. After much searching, they found a Fusion Core and plugged it into the generator in one of the back rooms. The lights flickered on and the elevator's doorbell dinged. The four of them, plus Dogmeat, made their way into the elevator and Nathan pressed the down button. The doors closed and they started going down, when suddenly a voice sounded over the intercom that made Nathan's blood boil.

"_You again,_" came the voice that had haunted his dreams for the past several days. "_I had a feeling you'd find me after a while, if the Commonwealth didn't chew your ass up and spit you out first. Now piss off, if you know what's good for you._"

"Not on your life, you bastard," Nathan muttered beneath his breath.

In the bottom of the base they continued their search, passing through rooms full of old computer consoles which, surprisingly, were still operational. But these gave them no clue as to where they were supposed to go. Aside from the way back, there was one other door which was sealed and had no keyhole or terminal to unlock it. After a while, a dry laugh was heard over the intercom.

"_You're persistent, I'll give you that,_" said the voice. "_But you're in way over your fucking head. If you know what's good for you, then go away. Leave now._"

"Fuck you!" Nathan shouted. Taking Righteous Authority, he looked about frantically for the intercom speaker. He wanted to blow up the speaker, to stop the taunting voice. But he found not the speaker: and his enemy knew that.

"_Alright, can't say I didn't warn your ass,_" the voice said. "_Incoming..._"

Suddenly the concrete walls, dressed in fading and peeling drywall and wallpaper, burst asunder. From out of them there appeared synths like the ones which Nathan and Danse had fought at ArcJet. They had fallen into the trap.

"Here's the fun part!" Cait smirked.

Cait and Nick were the first ones to charge into the fray. Nathan and Piper gave them cover, sending loud shots ringing in their ears and thunder booms of the laser rifle. Dogmeat stood at Nathan's back, keeping him and Piper safe from any synths that might try to flank them. How many synths were upon them they did not count; they would not rest until nothing else of pale white synthetic flesh was moving. One by one, the machines were torn down until they were lying in tattered scrap around them. They took a moment to take wind, and wipe the oil and dirt-spots off their faces: Nick merely looked down at the machines with an indescribable look in his yellow positronic eyes.

"You okay?" Nathan gasped.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," the synth detective replied.

"You sorry about us killing them?" he asked.

"It's...complicated," said Nick. "But we can shoot the breeze about philosophy later. Kellogg's close, I know it."

There was a loud clank that turned their attention toward the inward door. It was now slowly swinging open.

"_Let's talk._" said the voice. There was a note of wearied resignation to the voice. "_No tricks this time. I'm ordering the rest of my synths to stand down._"

The party slowly walked towards the door, but their guns were still in their hands and aimed forward. None of them trusted that what was going to happen next was not a trap. On the other side was a dimly lit office room deep underground: a place of military computers and technicians doing the impersonal activities of the United States Commonwealth. To the left was an elevated walkway fenced on both sides: along its roof was a ceiling lamp that was flickering. In its light they could see a gruff looking man, bald of head and unshaven face: how old he was they could not guess, but he looked roughly middle-aged. There was a modified .44 pistol in his right hand and a squarish device in a leather pouch on his belt, which his left hand was resting idly upon. But the face, those eyes, filled Nathan with rage: this was the man who had shot Nora point-blank and kidnapped Shaun.

"And here I thought _I_ was the most resilient son of a bitch in the Commonwealth," Kellogg said.

"You're a dead man!" shouted Nathan, who kept Righteous Authority aimed at his opponent.

"For what, huh?" Kellogg challenged. "Putting a bullet in your pretty wife's head?" He spat. "I've killed more wives and sons than you ever have, soldier boy. What's one more to me? I'm not gonna fucking cry about it like some little bitch. All those kills made me who I am; and those sorry bastards should be thanking me. You've seen what it's like; this world, this life. A quick death is a better end than choking on blood from rad-poisoning: that's all anyone has to look forward to." Nathan took aim at Kellogg's head: to his surprise, he chuckled grimly.

"Keep your panties on: your boy's safe." Kellogg admitted with a mocking tone. He hesitated for a moment, and there seemed to be something in his eyes that Nathan couldn't quite discern. Was it hesitation? Fear? Regret?

"What the hell did you do to him?!" Nathan demanded.

"I didn't do shit, don't worry," Kellogg admitted at last. "Shaun's fine. Maybe a bit older than you expect, hmm?" He added the last part with a bit of an effort. He then shook his head.

"What is it?" asked Nathan. "Where the hell is my son, you mercenary motherfucker?!"

"To see you standing there," Kellogg grimly stated. "So sure of yourself, that you'll find Shaun and have your happily ever after in this fucked up world: almost makes me laugh. But I ain't a fucking philosopher and they didn't pay me to talk you to death."

"Who's they?" Nathan asked, fuming as his finger moved onto the trigger of Righteous Authority. "Where. Is. My. Son?!"

"You know what?" he coughed. "I think I've changed my mind. Those sorry bastards can go to hell...and you with 'em!"

Kellogg flipped a switch on the box at his belt and suddenly vanished. There was a beeping noise and suddenly four more synths appeared from behind the computer desks. It was a trap. The four of them now stood to defend themselves against the newcomers, while Dogmeat sniffed the air suspiciously. Bullets were flying as the group were being pushed back by the Gen-1 synths: seemingly indifferent to the bullets being fired at them.

The one attacking Nathan lost its left arm from the elbow down from a blast of Righteous Authority. Defiantly, it kept on marching toward him and seized the barrel of Righteous Authority in its metal grip and started squeezing. To Nathan's right, Piper gave a squeal as her 10mm ran out of bullets and the synth attacking her only lost the face-plate. To his left, Nick was exchanging fisticuffs with his synth: the only one of them who could stand toe-to-toe with a machine. Cait was already behind a massive computer console, trying to get the jump on her synth with her shotgun or bat.

Behind Nathan, Kellogg reappeared and aimed his iron at the back of Nathan's head. Dogmeat leaped at the mercenary and bit his right hand before he could squeeze off a shot. Piper reloaded her gun, then rose from cover and shot her synth in the side of its head. Cait rose from cover and swung her bat at her synth: circuits, sparks, and shards of broken metal shattered as its head nearly fell off its neck. Nick had stuck his right hand into the neck of his synth, and it froze up, collapsing onto the ground.

"Ah! Fucking mole-rat!" growled Kellogg, and punched Dogmeat in the snout. The poor beast gave a yelp and released his grip on Kellogg's right hand.

"Aww, now I'm mad!" Piper yelled. She turned to fire at Kellogg, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Piper!" Nathan grunted, still pinned by the synth bearing down upon him, crushing his weapon. From her right, the synth she had shot was coming for her. She yelped and ducked, just as Cait took out her shotgun and blasted its chest chassis to pieces. There was a loud shout and a stream of curses, and Piper noticed splatters of blood on the farther wall.

"Someone's been hit!" she called out.

"A little...busy right here!" groaned Nathan. Cait dropped her shotgun, picked up her baseball bat and took out the synth's legs. It collapsed and Nathan kicked it down, then drove what was left of Righteous Authority into its head until it ceased moving. Nathan then turned to the synth that was coming for Piper and, picking up Cait's shotgun, delivered a straight-shot to the chest that sent it crumbling.

"Nice one, cap'n," Cait said. The others turned to the synth that Nick had incapacitated.

"What did you do to it, Nick?" Piper asked in an amazed voice.

"Tried to shut it down," replied Nick. "Trouble is, these newer models have tighter security subroutines. Forced it into a system reboot, that should buy us..." At that moment, Cait slammed her bat directly into the synth's head, sending metal shards, broken circuitry, sparks, and wires every which way.

"That outta do it," she said. Dogmeat barked and let out a growl. Nathan ran over to the dog and inspected his snout: there was a bruise, but nothing more serious. But Dogmeat was glaring at something on the ground.

"Who's hit?" Nathan asked.

"Not me," said Piper.

"Nae," Cait added.

"My coolant isn't red," Nick added. "That's blood, which means Kellogg's around here somewhere."

After a little searching, they found a trail of blood leading to the far side of the room, near the stairs going to the hallway. They found the shrapnel-filled remains of the little square device, which Nathan recognized almost immediately.

"I think that's a Stealth-Boy," he said. "I've heard rumors about Marines being deployed with these during the Yangtze Campaign back in the War."

"That's how we couldn't see him," Piper muttered. She stopped short and tugged on Nathan's Vault-suit, pointing towards the stairs at the end of the hallway. There Kellogg lay slouched against the stairs, his gun just a few inches out of reach of his hands. He was vainly trying to reach for it, but just as he almost touched it, Nathan put his foot on it and picked it up.

"Never thought some wet-nosed little bitch would be the one to take me down," groaned Kellogg.

Nathan lifted the gun and pointed it at Kellogg's face.

"Alright, you son of a bitch, start talking," Nathan demanded. "Where is my son?"

"Why the fuck should I tell you?" Kellogg retorted.

"You're bleeding out," Nathan replied, pulling back the hammer and pressing the barrel to Kellogg's forehead. "Do you wanna go slowly or quickly? Where is he?!"

"God, you're persistent!" Kellogg coughed, blood spurting from his mouth. "I wish...agh, fuck! No use now...the Institute has him."

"Holy shit!" Piper muttered under her breath, her eyes widening in amazement.

"End of the line for you...bitch!" Kellogg said to Nathan, spitting blood in his face. Nathan didn't hesitate as he squeezed off the trigger once, twice, three times, plugging Kellogg's brain with enough brass to shatter the front plate of his skull and send brains and bloody circuitry flying all over the steel steps. Nathan did not even flinch at the sight of the desiccated brain, or of Cait and Piper looking at him in surprise and horror. He barely listened to Nick commenting on how he was going to search the computers for any confirmation of what he had told them.

Kellogg was dead: killed in the same way and by the same weapon with which he had taken Nora from Nathan.

* * *

**(AN: So I am doing an audiobook style read-through of the first book of my main series on YT. Unfortunately, reading that has revealed to me my overindulgent writing style: my chapters tend to get verbose. I hope that you all can at least bear with me, because I do have a reason for the absurd length of these chapters.)**

**(This chapter has taken months to release, mostly because I've been overwhelmed and side-tracked. Yadda yadda yadda, you'll probably notice that Kellogg's monologue isn't the same as in the game. Well it's not all written down and the YTers who i've been using for dialogue snippets don't have his full monologue. So I winged it.)**


End file.
